A/N: As I often say at the end of a story, thank you for your company and support on this journey. It means a lot that so many people have sufficient faith in my writing to read along with me as I write and publish each chapter. I hope you felt that your investment was returned with interest. Liv

Note: This story assumes that the drama began with the book signing, which I chose to time for the end August.

Chapter 13: Epilogue

Six months later...

"Richard Castle, what are you wearing?" squeals Kate, doubling over in a riot of helpless heehawing laughter.

She snorts and then quickly covers her mouth with both hands, eyes wide in horrified mortification at the involuntary noise she just made. But she has to gasp for air as she continues to watch Castle swagger towards her across the bedroom floor dressed in a neon yellow pair of men's stretch ski pants, a black balaclava and…nothing else.

He crosses the room playing more like a cowboy in a Western than a half-naked man strutting around his own bedroom in bare feet and a highly flammable polyester/nylon mix. Black suspenders dangle down the outside of each thigh making him look like a fireman on a shout, somehow caught short of the rest of his bunker gear. Actually, the bare chest and the fireman image is kind of doing it for Kate, but she has no chance to tell him that before he scoops her up and dumps her on the bed, bouncing with her on the well-sprung mattress until they both collapse in a giggling, exhausted, breathless heap.

Castle traps her beneath him, straddling her slim hips with his thighs (and thank God for stretch polyester) to immobilize her, arms pinioned above her head for extra restraint. The fabric of his ski pants rasps and wheezes against the black jeans Kate is wearing, the sound making this moment all the more comical. She squirms against Castle's firm grip when twin tears of laughter leak out the side of her eyes and head for her hairline, desperate to free her hands to wipe them away.

"What's my safe word again?" she frowns, trying hard to remember for herself. But she grins the second she hears Castle emit a dramatic sigh of frustration.

"Kate, we talked about this."

"I know," she whines, wriggling even harder to break free, though she knows that with the writer pinning her down like this, with all his body weight on top of her, she has minimal chance of breaking away. Anyway, it's quite fun to be overtaken by Richard Castle; one of the many things she's learned can be fun over the last six, eventful months. "But you use yours so much more than I do and apples is really easy to remember."

"No way are we sharing a safe word. Anyway, I'm sure that's against the rules."

Kate goes limp, her futile struggle forgotten. "Rules? What rules?"

Castle pauses for a second, weighing up whether he actually heard that somewhere or if he's going to have to simply make something up. He's a writer, so it's not that big of a stretch to invent a convincing reply. Problem is, with Kate being a detective his made up stories now have a habit of being debunked pretty quickly. He's still not used to this challenge to his storytelling abilities. For example, it took Alexis a couple of years before she figured out that the moon wasn't made of ice and only came out at night to avoid being melted by the sun. To be fair, she was only two and a half when he first told her this fabulous fact, so...

"The uh…rules of—"

"Oh, cut it out," laughs Kate, flipping him over on the bed before he can even conjure a convincing answer, thus gaining the element of surprise.

She watches him grin up at her now that he's the one lying on his back on their bed.

Their bed.

She repeats this thought inside her head, still startled by the speed at which everything developed between them once they really got started. Sure, she went home to pick up some things this morning, but by and large she spends all of her time at the loft – evenings, mornings, weekends off or on call. And it's heaven: having someone to share her life with, to create a life with. She never realized how lonely she was and how empty her life outside of work actually was until they started to deepen their relationship, spending most of their days and nights together.

The phone call the night she left the loft after their first dinner date at Raoul's had been a major catalyst, when she thinks back. They had parted shyly, tentatively, the echo of Alexis' displeasure hovering between them like a dark shadow. Castle had asked Kate to text when she got home safely, but she had picked up the phone instead, determined to keep them moving forward now that some preliminary progress has been made.

Six months earlier...

Kate recalls that phone call now.

"Hey, it's me."

His voice, she remembers even today, was still alert, no hint of the dusty dry scrape of sleep to his tone. No trace of alcohol either, which in itself was a great relief. "Hey."

"You okay?"

"Uh…yeah. So you got home all right?"

Kate didn't immediately answer his question. She focused instead on his hesitation, her detective's intuition at play. "Why the pause? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Castle," she had said in a warning tone.

"What?"

"I thought you wanted this? I thought we both did."

"I do." His reply had been emphatic, but slightly flat. No joy or excitement to these defining words.

"Then why don't you sound happier? Why aren't we happy, Castle?"

Her note of panic had been countered by his puzzled, somber calm.

"You're not happy?"

"I'm…I'm relieved, I guess. But—"

"Relieved?" He had said the word as if it were a curiosity, something left in the wrong place; it lay like a hard, heavy pebble in his mouth.

"That you still love me, that you didn't close the door in my face, that…that we get to go back to work tomorrow…together."

"Of course I still love you. I never stopped."

"But you're still angry."

"Those are two different things, Kate. You need to understand that. Just because I'm mad at—"

"I hate that you're mad at me." She winced as her confession reverberated in the space between them; at how pathetic she sounded, how childish.

Castle had actually laughed at her then. Laughed.

"What?" she had asked, indignantly. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Because you're funny, and I love you, and thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me laugh for the first time in months."

"I don't think I like this."

"What don't you like?"

"Richard Castle laughing at me."

"I've laughed at you before."

Kate remembers letting out a long sigh, letting everything go. Being honest was so much easier on the phone, but she knew she had to find a way to be this open with him when they were face-to-face too. "I want to laugh with you."

There had been a silent pause on the writer's end, and Kate had lifted the phone away from her ear to check that the line was still live. But then Castle had mirrored her sigh and she knew he was still with her, still there, still listening. "I'd like that too. Tell me how you want tomorrow to work?" he had asked, moving them on.

"Eh…just…be your normal self, I guess."

She could hear his grin when he had said, "So…no handholding in the precinct, no kiss when I meet you at a crime scene. What about dinner? Can I buy you dinner tomorrow night?"

Kate remembers smiling then, smiling at the warmth in his voice, at the picture he was painting for her, and at the possibilities his request held open for them. "How about this. How about you come over to my apartment after work, you kiss me when you arrive, you hold my hand all the way to the dining table, and then you let me make dinner for you instead?"

"All my dreams rolled into one," he had replied, the humor in his tone unmissable, even though she couldn't see his face.

"No, that would be after," Kate had replied coyly, a warmth like molten honey slicking her voice.

"Ah, dessert," Castle had responded, his tone happy and light, though lacking the sensual flirtation of Kate's.

"If that's what you want to call it. But I prefer just to call it sex," Kate had countered, biting down on her lip as she awaited his reaction to her boldest move yet.

"Are…are you even cleared for that?" Castle had spluttered out, before immediately adding, "I'm sorry. Kate, I am so sorry. That's was the dumbest thing I think I've ever said."

Kate's hand had been pressed over her scar when she replied. "No, I'm sure I can think of dumber. And yes, I had to pass a physical before I came back to work."

Castle had remained silent for a beat or two, drowning in his own vat of gaucheness. When he finally spoke, his voice was as serious and earnest as an act of contrition. "Can we start over?"

Kate had cleared her throat and then she has smiled to herself. "Say yes to dinner first."

Castle's reply had been instant and without any hesitation. "Yes. I'd love to."

"Then we just started over. Oh, and Castle," she had said before ending the call. "Don't forget to pack your toothbrush."

Castle jolts her out of her reminiscence and back to the present when he wriggles beneath her and the fabric of his shockingly vivid pants makes a papery shushing sound to accompany the impatient movement of his thighs.

"Ha! My safe word is coffee," declares Kate, slapping the mattress close to his head.

Castle frowns. "I thought it was cherries."

"I changed my mind. Woman's prerogative. Anyway, coffee is way better."

"Better how? You say coffee like…five or six times a day…at least."

Kate laughs.

"No, seriously. I arrive at the Precinct empty handed and the first thing out of your mouth is not 'Good morning, darling.' It's 'Castle, where's my coffee?' So what am I supposed to think when you're yelling out 'coffee' in the throws of passion? Huh?"

"Well, first of all, if you'll permit me a moment to break down your ridiculous little scenario. A: I would never, and I mean never ever, call you darling at the Precinct. Or anywhere else for that matter."

Castle pouts at this disappointing news, his features protruding pudgily through the oval opening in his black balaclava. Kate manages to merely smirk at his little boy antics and move right along.

"Second of all, what would you think I meant if I called out 'coffee' in the middle of us having sex? That I actually wanted to stop for a cup of coffee? Or that I was using my safe word?"

Castle actually appears to be pondering her question.

"Come on, think about it," chuckles Kate, lightly slapping his bare chest. "Have I ever asked you to pause for a caffeine break in the six months we've been doing the dirty?"

This is Castle's cue to laugh – a hearty, happy boom of a sound that rips free of his chest, surprising even Kate, allowing him to topple her off his hips and onto the mattress alongside him.

"Doing the dirty?" he asks, his voice high and squeaky with amusement.

"Fine. Making love," amends Kate. "Happy now?"

They lie side-by-side, grinning at one another like silly, giddy little kids. Kate's cheeks are flushed pink with bashfulness, love, affection and exertion. She looks so beautiful that Castle can't bear to tear his gaze away from her.

"I love you, you know," he blurts, reaching out to brush a tangle of curls off her warm cheek.

"Ditto, Mr. Castle," replies Kate, fiddling with one of the elastic suspenders on Castle's ski pants.

She tells him she loves him all the time now, with actual words. It still feels like a punch to the solar plexus to hear her say it though, to look into her eyes and see just how much she means it, that she feels it just as overwhelmingly as he does.

He looks at her now - a ridiculous sight with the ski mask still on - his bright blue eyes dancing with mischief. "Tell me again how you wanted me so badly after you saw me at the book signing that you just had to come running?"

Kate looks startled, but amused. "Can you paraphrase actual events? I mean, is that even possible?"

Castle taps his chin, pretending to ponder the question. "Hmm. Let me think about that."

"Well, let me help you. The answer must be yes, since you're doing it right now."

"Come on, Beckett. You wanted me badly. You told me so yourself when you turned up at my door late at night and—"

"It was just after ten, I'd hardly call that—"

Castle laughs right in her face. "The timing? That's what you're going to quibble over here?"

"I'm not quibbling over anything," she tells him, defensively.

"Great," nods Castle, tugging playfully on the waistband of her jeans. "Then we're in agreement. You wanted me so badly that you—"

"Would you stop saying that?" she whisper-hisses, glancing down the bed towards the open door to the study.

"Afraid of the truth, Beckett?"

"No. More like afraid your daughter will hear."

"Ah, so you agree that it is the truth?" counters Castle, eyes alight with the triumph of his gotcha moment.

"Whatever," grumbles Kate, shoving on his chest so that he rolls backwards away from her, looking utterly ridiculous with his head still encased in black fleece.

"We can all hear you, darling," rings out Castle's mother's cultured voice.

"See?!" hisses Kate, burying her face in the comforter just as Martha taps on the doorframe, announcing her physical presence in the entryway to the bedroom.

"Oh, dear God, Richard. What are those and why aren't you packed already?" asks Martha, having the audacity to point and gawp at Castle's lurid yellow pants, given her own sartorial crimes, which now span two centuries.

Kate sniggers, muffling the traitorous sound with the thick down of a throw pillow, while Castle hops off the bed to glare at his mother, leaving Kate bouncing queasily on the mattress.

"We were having a moment, okay? Or should I expect no privacy around here? Hmm? In my own home?"

Martha ignores her son's less than subtle question and motors right on. "The flight to Denver leaves in three hours and you're not even packed, darling. Chop chop!" she adds, clapping her hands before backing out of the bedroom muttering, "And for goodness sake put on some proper clothes. We're not flying coach."

As soon as his mother has left them alone, Kate sits up and then eases herself off the bed to come and stand beside her partner.

She leans in close to grin against his neck, the skin warm and smooth and enticingly fragranced after his morning shave. "For what it's worth, I kind of love those pants," she whispers, gently kissing the soft skin of his throat.

"You do?" he asks, turning to face her in surprise. His large hands fall to brace on her waist, dwarfing its narrow span in a way that still makes Kate's heart pound mercilessly in her chest.

"Mm-hmm," she nods, giving him a slow-blossoming, sex-laden smile.

"What if I told you I'm not wearing anything underneath?" he whispers back, drawing her into a deep, stirring kiss.

"I'll need to gather more evidence before I can sign off on that," giggles Kate, grinning into the kiss as she slips her hand down the front of the mercifully roomy pants to seek the evidence she speaks of.

Castle gasps and stiffens. In fact, pretty much everything stiffens when her palm and fingers contract around him.

Kate opens her mouth, teasing Castle's lips apart with the wet intrusion of her tongue, and then she hums with pleasure as the weight and heft of his hardening length continues to rise up and fill her palm.

"Dad, have you seen my…ski boots? Oh god!"

Alexis pauses in the doorway that Martha was remiss enough to leave ajar, her arms suddenly wrapped around her head to cover her eyes.

Kate and Castle freeze like statues. Thankfully the writer's considerably broad back is turned towards the door, so the chance of Alexis actually witnessing what they are up to is zero. However, what she might imagine they are up to is a whole other matter.

"Uh…sorry. I didn't—" She stutters, her eyes cast down towards the floor. Her usually pale face is now a scorching match for the color of her hair.

Kate uses this moment of toe-curling embarrassment to liberate her hand from Castle's pants and step out of his shadow to address his daughter. "Hey, no harm done. Nearly packed?" she asks brightly, allowing Castle a second or two to collect himself before turning around.

"Yeah, I uh—"

Alexis' gaze swings from Kate's look of total innocence to the back of her father's head. "Dad, I can't find my ski boots." She frowns as her father finally turns to face her, his cheeks an unexpected shade of pink. "What are those?" she asks, pointing at the fireman/ski pants with a look of utter teenage horror. "What happened to your black ones?"

"Just felt like a change," Castle mutters, looking the most uncomfortable person in the room by far.

"Change back," insists Alexis, letting her eyes slide to Kate's, urging her to provide a little backup on the subject.

"Maybe Alexis is right," Kate suggests, wincing inwardly even as she says these disloyal words.

"Right?" balks Castle, turning hurt eyes on Kate, as if he can't believe her betrayal.

"Yeah," she smiles uneasily. "I just mean, didn't you say your ski jacket is turquoise? Black and turquoise would go so much better than that…that neon yellow color," she adds, gesturing towards the gaudy, eye-watering fabric.

"They're chartreuse," insists Castle, his features contorted by indignation through the opening in his balaclava.

"Exactly!" agrees Alexis, nodding her head vigorously. "Which is designer shorthand for garish."

"I don't think I like this," grumbles Castle, glancing between his sniggering daughter and his amused partner.

"Too late now, dad," grins Alexis, as Kate bites her lip to prevent herself from laughing at the disappointed look on poor Castle's face.

Kate can tell he's feigning his dismay at the camaraderie between his child and his partner, all for effect. He's secretly delighted at the close relationship that has evolved between the two women over the last six months. While it wasn't easy to begin with, and Alexis took a long time to warm up to Kate, the detective's persistence with both father and daughter paid off in the end, culminating in the trip they're about to make today.

"Right, how about I come help you look for those ski boots while we leave your dad to finish packing?" asks Kate, smiling when the redhead nods her agreement. "Okay, give me a couple of minutes and I'll be right out."

She lets Alexis leave the room first, before Kate collapses against Castle with an embarrassed groan the second they are alone.

"Well, that was close," mutters Castle, appearing to be still somewhat in shock.

Kate straightens up and then she turns to face him with a hungry grin, easing both black suspenders up over Castle's bare arms and onto shoulders.

"Make sure you pack these," she tells him, pulling one of the elastic straps and letting it go so that it snaps back against his right nipple.

"Ow! I thought you wanted me to take the black pair?" Castle frowns in confusion, rubbing at his poor, abused nipple.

"Oh, I do. Pack those for the slopes and these," she grins gleefully, tugging on the other strap as if it's a catapult she's about to let go, "for the bedroom."

"Really?" asks Castle, managing to prevent further nipple damage by inserting his hand beneath the suspender before Kate lets it twang.

"Mm-hmm," she nods, with a gleam in her eye. "We will have our own private bedroom, right?" she adds, just to make sure. "With actual walls and locks on the doors?"

"Of course. We have a whole floor to ourselves. But what brought this on?"

"I may have been watching an episode of Chicago Fire last night and—" She bites her lip coyly as she gives him a head-to-toe perusal, dragging her eyes across his naked torso and then down over his fluro-yellow clad hips and legs.

"And?" prompts Castle, when Kate's gaze remains stuck near his crotch. (The fabric is slightly voluminous in this area. Either that or Castle is still just a little too excited).

"What?" she asks blankly, before giving her head a little shake. "Oh, sorry, and these pants kind of say 'Chicago Fire Department, call out!'" she giggles, before slapping him on the ass and hurrying out of the bedroom to find Alexis.

Later that same day…

"Where did you say we were going again?"

"Denver. We're flying to Denver. Pay attention, Detective," Castle scolds, accepting a glass of champagne from the stewardess hovering with a tray in the aisle beside his seat.

Kate takes a glass of bubbles as well, giving Martha and Alexis, who are seated in their own little pods across the aisle from them, a silent, mouthed toast. She takes a sip while watching the last of the passengers struggle through the business class cabin en route to coach.

"I know we're going to Denver. I wouldn't let you take me out of state without being sure where we were headed. I meant what's the name of the resort we'll be skiing in?"

"Loveland."

Kate turns to give Castle a look, choking on her first mouthful of champagne in the process, as bubbles rush straight to her nose. She coughs, dislodging the fine droplets of liquid coating her throat.

"Seriously?" she gulps, wiping her lips with a tiny, square cocktail napkin.

Castle grins and nods slowly, as if he's been waiting weeks for the chance to utter that one single word. Loveland.

"Seriously. We are headed to Loveland, Colorado, Beckett."

"Miss, this flight is headed to Denver, not…not Las Vegas by any chance?" Kate asks the passing stewardess.

The woman pauses by their seats, a look of concern on her face. "No, ma'am. If you were hoping to fly to Las Vegas you'd better get off fast. We're about to close the doors."

"No, no it's fine. Denver is just fine," she assures the woman with a tight, forced smile.

She turns to look at Castle once the stewardess has mosied on her way. "Of all the ski resorts in the United States and Canada…you just had to pick this one."

Castle grins.

"Is that why the boys were sniggering behind my back yesterday?"

"I didn't tell them."

"Castle," warns Kate, giving him a hard stare.

"Okay, but they asked. What could I do?"

"Tell them anything. Anything else but…Loveland," she says, frowning as if the word puts a peculiar taste in her mouth.

"Relax, Kate. They know this is a family trip. Javi even asked about the spa treatments my mother has booked."

"And you didn't find that strange? Javi? Oh, we are going to get so much shit when we get back," she groans, downing the rest of her champagne in one.

They arrive at the Saxon Mountain Lodge in Georgetown, Colorado, a little over six hours later. The private ski chalet is beautiful, secluded, and just 12 miles from the fabulous ski runs of Loveland. They do indeed have a whole floor to themselves, complete with balcony overlooking the snow-clad mountain and a spacious hot tub that is just begging to be filled up and turned on.

Later that night, after Martha and Alexis have gone to bed, Castle lights the wood fire in their top floor suite, while Kate fills the hot tub and lights a choir of candles. They undress quickly, slipping into the steaming hot water together before the cold night air can raise goose bumps on their skin. Castle settles with his back to the wall of the tub, while Kate slips down between his legs, letting her back gently come to rest against his chest.

"So, I kept my promise," he murmurs, flicking her ear with his tongue.

Kate shivers at the intimate sensation, wrapping her fingers round Castle's thighs to stop herself from slipping deeper under the bubbling water. "Which promise is that?" she asks in a low voice, stroking his calf muscle with her toes.

"To ease you in gently."

She smiles, the memory of his promise instantly rushing back. "Ah, yes. Our first Castle family vacation. I remember."

"Seems a world ago. That night."

"It does, doesn't it."

"Been a fast six months."

"No kidding. You met my dad." Kate grins, remembering Castle's hand, sweaty and trembling in hers all the way to the restaurant.

"I did. And then we got caught having sex by mom."

Kate groans, and then she turns to flick water in Castle's face. "Please, don't remind me. That's a day I'd pay not to relive."

"Actually, I don't think I'd change a thing," Castle muses, pressing his lips to the smooth curve of Kate's glistening, bare shoulder.

"Have you ever wondered what would have happened if you hadn't killed off Derrick Storm and Harrison Tisdale hadn't been greedy enough to copy your books?"

"You mean would we still have met?"

"Mmm," hums Kate, reaching for her glass of champagne.

"I...I would like to hope."

"But you're not sure?"

"If I tell you I think we were fated, is there any chance you wouldn't mock me as...as deluded or a total fantasist?"

"Not a hopeless romantic?" suggests Kate, turning her head to press a kiss to his jaw.

"That's what you're accusing me of? Being a hopeless romantic?"

"If the cap fits, Castle," she teases, delicately brushing his mouth with her smile.

"Then guilty as charged. Are you disappointed?"

Kate frowns with her lips still hovering against his cheek. "Why?"

"That I'm so...predictable?"

"I don't think you've ever disappointed me. Surprise me, yes. You always manage to go above and beyond."

Castle puffs out his chest. "My personal motto: go big or—"

"Go home. Yeah, I know."

"Actually, I was going to say 'Go First Class'."

Kate laughs, and then she gestures at her partner with her champagne glass, dropping her head back to rest against his shoulder. "See! Always unpredictable, always surprising, never boring."

Castle reaches for his own glass, raising it in a toast. "To us."

Kate clinks her crystal flute against the rim of Castle's, silently thinking 'yes, we made it', before making a toast of her own.

"To Rick and Kate."

The End