Castle unlocks the door and allows her to enter the loft first, and for a moment, she's frozen in the foyer, her breath caught in her lungs at the swarm of memories she hadn't been prepared for.
It's strange, almost uncomfortable, to be back in his home. Most nights had been spent at her place, her empty apartment far more suitable for their nighttime activities than the loft that contained both his mother and daughter, but she had been to his loft enough times for the place to feel like a second home after awhile.
The majority of her memories consist of his home bathed in the night sky and city lights that glittered outside his living room windows, of how beautiful he looked in manmade starlight while he walked her - sometimes carried her - to his bedroom, but not all moments spent in his home were born of clandestine meetings from all the times she showed up after his daughter had disappeared to bed and she had been unable to wait any longer.
Kate knew his daughter, his mother too, solely from living in the same building, and she had been over for dinner multiple times, sometimes even staying over for breakfast if they could get away with it. Martha had figured them out, she was sure of it, but Alexis had remained oblivious to the 'friends with benefits' style escapades that eventually escalated into more than she could have ever anticipated.
"Chinese?" he assumes, the phone already to his ear, and Kate nods, too exhausted to protest.
She sets her duffel of meager belongings down in the foyer, never having actually seen the guest room and unsure of its location, and follows his lead into the kitchen. While he recites their orders, not even having to ask to remember what she likes, Kate takes a seat on the barstool she had always claimed as hers, folds her arms atop the smooth marble of the breakfast bar and lowers her head to rest on the bones of her forearms.
"Okay, see you in twenty, thanks," she hears him say, the sound of his phone being placed on the island following, and then his footsteps, soft but growing louder the closer he comes to her.
He doesn't speak, but Castle's hand rises to her neck once he's standing beside her, his fingers digging into the knotted flesh between her shoulders and just beneath her skull before slipping into her hair, brushing through the kinked waves the locks have dried into. He used to do the same thing at night, every time she ended up falling into bed with him after a brutal day at the precinct. He loved to touch her, so much so it was sometimes maddening, but after six months of sleeping with him, she had grown accustomed to his habits, his incessant need to touch and stroke. She'd even started to like it a little.
"You can go lie down for a while if you're tired," he murmurs, trailing his short nails along her scalp, soothing the headache pounding through her skull. "I can keep the food warm for you."
"No, it's okay," Kate assures him, his hand falling away as she lifts her head. "But maybe you could show me to the guest room so I can drop my stuff off?"
Castle nods and trots off to the foyer, grabs her bag for her and starts for the stairs while Kate slips from the barstool and trails along after him.
The guest bedroom is lovely, tasteful and welcoming just like the rest of his home, nearly twice the size of her own bedroom. It's more than she deserves, but Castle is already babbling before she can examine the room in its entirety, before she can express her gratitude.
"And the bathroom's right through there, but if for any reason you're not comfortable, just let me know and you can have my room instead. I don't mind sleeping in here and I would completely-"
"Castle," she huffs, stealing her bag from his fingers and depositing it at the foot of the queen sized bed in the middle of the room. "This is perfectly fine, I promise."
His chest expands with relief and she rolls her eyes at him, the silly man, and brushes her knuckles along his hand in appreciation as she drifts past him, out of the intimate space of the bedroom and back towards the stairs.
Dinner goes by too quickly, but he relishes every second, revels in how easy it can still be between them. They talk about his daughter and her temporary stay in LA, they discuss his mother and her acting successes and failures that Kate admonishes him for releasing a laugh at Martha's expense, and go over a few of her latest, more exciting cases. All safe topics they once exchanged on a nightly basis, but it doesn't feel safe at all to be back on his couch with her.
It's dangerous to have her back in his life like this and he knows by the caution in her gaze that she's come to the same realization.
"Thanks for dinner, Rick," she murmurs, rising from the couch with her plate in her hands and depositing it in the sink along with her silverware and unfinished glass of water. "But it's been a long day."
"Do you have to work tomorrow?" he inquires, mimicking her actions and placing his dishes in the sink alongside hers.
"No, thankfully," she chuckles, plucking at the hem of her sweater as they both stand in the kitchen. Too close in a confined space. "I haven't had a day off in awhile and we have no open cases right now, so I called Montgomery earlier."
"Good, you never take enough time off," he reminds her, earning a familiar roll of eyes that makes his heart pump in the stupidest of ways. "Any requests for breakfast? If I remember correctly, you were quite the fan of my infamous s'morelette."
"You must have amnesia because never again would I put that in my mouth. The only reason I even tried it was because you tricked me into thinking it was a regular omelette," she states with crossed arms and a playfully curved brow.
"If you would have known the truth, you never would have given it a chance," he whines, earning an incredulous laugh that has an involuntary smile creeping across his lips.
"No, I wouldn't have, because mixing chocolate and marshmallows with eggs will never be okay, Castle."
Rick waves her off. "You have your opinions, I have mine."
"Mm, only difference is that mine tend to always be right," she teases, shifting forward to bump his shoulder with her own.
"See if you get any breakfast at all tomorrow morning."
Kate scoffs, the grin on her lips so lovely and full, and he wishes he still owned the right to kiss her. "I have no doubt you'll make pancakes, Castle."
"You think so?"
She nods, the upturned curve of her lips softening, slowly dimming into a sorrowful half smile that has his stomach clenching. "You always made me pancakes, every time we spent a morning together."
It hurts to remember. The last three months, he's done a fair job of blocking images of Kate from his mind, though it's no easy feat when she lives in the same building and running into her has always been inevitable, but he had been getting better at letting go. Now, though, all of the regret and remorse he had repressed since that last fight they had in her living room is swelling inside his chest like a tidal wave threatening to pull him under.
Kate lowers her gaze, any trace of a smile completely gone now, and glances towards the stairs in retreat. "I'm - like I said, I should go to bed-"
"I never told you I loved you," he murmurs, studying the fingers at her side as they freeze and then begin to tremble. "I think I regret that most."
"Don't," she whispers back, her eyes fluttering shut, that shaking hand rising to clutch at her ribs, as if he's wounded her with the verbal blow. "Please don't, Rick."
He nods, because they're both exhausted and she's never been good at talking about them and this broken thing between them even on her best days, but he leans forward before she can escape, skims a kiss to her forehead.
"I'll still make you pancakes," he promises her as he pulls away, leaving her standing dazed in his kitchen while he disappears into his office that will lead to the relative safety of a bedroom swollen with memories of her.
The heat of his breath on her skin, the fleeting brush of his lips, remains burned into her flesh, her forehead fevered and branded and she hates him for it. Hates herself for moving into this overly expensive building with horrible pipes, for getting involved with the writer with the piercing blue eyes and lopsided smile that had awakened the elusive butterflies in her stomach while helping her haul a giant painting into the elevator on that very first day.
She hates herself for loving him back.
They had never exchanged the words, not after six months of knowing one another, five months of sharing beds and hearts, but she had felt it. She had known that she had been at risk of loving him since the first time she had fallen into his bed and allowed him to eradicate the ice lingering in her veins with the fire of his flesh and the warmth of his mouth.
But then he had found her homemade murder board in her office, the evidence decorating the shudders and every inch of the glass windows. She had told him about her mom early on, during a late night after the homicide of a forty year old mother had landed in her lap and she had spent her evening consoling the victim's daughter, relating to her anguish all too well. They had only been seeing each other for a month, but she told him everything, trusted him with every detail, every shattered piece of her damaged heart, and she thought he had understood. It wasn't until he found the makeshift board, learned that she was trying to investigate again that she realized he didn't, that no one could.
Just like everyone before him, he had tried to talk her out of it and she had been stubborn, hid away in her mother's case exactly as he had accused her of.
"We are over. Now get out," she had snarled at him, expecting another shouting match in return, but his dark blue eyes had shuddered closed on her, all traces of light faded, and he had respected her wishes, her choice, and done the last thing she had ever truly wanted.
He left her alone.
Kate growls and rolls over in his guest bed, checks the alarm clock on the bedside table and groans in quiet frustration at the 2:17 glaring back at her. She's been tossing and turning for four hours, hardly gaining a full five minutes of sleep, all because of him. So she shoves the sheets that smell like his laundry detergent from her body, forgoes the idea of tugging on the sweatpants she had originally changed into before bed, and exits the room in nothing more than her underwear and one of the only t-shirts she currently owns.
The path to his office from the stairs is a blur, but once she finally reaches the threshold between his workspace and his bedroom, she hesitates. She doesn't want to hurt him again, doesn't want to do the same to herself in the process, but it's been three months and she's sick of the 'if only's echoing in her head.
Kate holds her breath, turns the handle of his bedroom door without making a sound, and peeks inside. Castle is asleep, rolled on his stomach with an arm curled around the pillow that she once considered hers. He always leaves his curtains askew, the glow of the city outside providing a streak of light that spills over his back, and Kate releases her breath at the familiar sight, feels the want spread warm and right through her veins.
Her mother deserves justice, and she won't give up on the uphill battle for closure, but sacrificing her life and everything - everyone - in it that matters is not what her mother would want. Her mom would want her to be happy and Richard Castle had made her happier than she had been in years, happier than she could have ever imagined.
And apparently, it took a flooded apartment for her to finally see that.
Kate pads across the chilled hardwood flooring of his bedroom on bare feet, climbs onto the mattress and crawls across the mess of sheets and the wrinkled comforter until she's hovering at his back, bracing a hand near his shoulder so she can bend down, dust her lips along his cheek.
"Castle," she murmurs, moving her hand to his nape, grazing her fingers through the short hairs at the base of his skull and feeling his body ripple with awareness beneath hers.
Castle's arm flexes around the pillow, his brow furrowing and she trails her mouth upwards, pressing her lips to the edge of a troubled eyebrow. His eyes blink open at that and Kate eases back a little, allows him the space to come awake and find her in the darkness.
"Kate?" he rasps, shifting on his side to stare up at her, his eyes slit with sleep and confusion, but she doesn't give him the chance to blink through the puzzlement of slumber, her body sinking down to hover above him once more. Closer than she's been in months. Rick's hand untangles from the sheets and lifts to her jawline, skimming the bone with mesmeric tenderness before he sits up, welcoming the slide of her knee over his lap and the settle of her body against his with a surprised breath. "What are you doing here?"
"You drenched my apartment," she reminds him, smiling at the huff he releases in response and the accompanying squeeze of his hand at her thigh that causes his eyes to go wide.
"Oh, you're..." His gaze drifts down to the bare legs bracketing his waist, his Adam's apple bobbing as his hands glide upwards to rest on the safe, covered points of her hipbones. "Where are your pants?" he croaks, and she shouldn't laugh, but she does, stifling the sound in his neck and humming when his palms rise to rest at her back, spreading warmth through her muscles and up her spine.
"I was kind of in a hurry. Had something important to tell you" Kate explains, pulling back to see his face, ignoring the nerves flickering to life in her stomach. His eyes are sharp and alert now, watching her with a heartbreaking mixture of anticipation and dread that she's not proud of creating, and she retracts one of her hands from the resting place of his shoulders, startles him with the brush of her fingertips to his frown lines. "I'm so sorry, Rick."
"S-sorry?" he echoes, catching her wrist and tugging her hand from his face, pinning their clashing fingers to the middle of his sternum as he studies her with a deeply knitted brow. "Kate, you haven't done anything-"
"I ruined us," she whispers, silencing his bubbling assurances, and lowers her gaze to the exposed skin of his chest peeking from the vee of his t-shirt. Her own chest feels tight from her admission, self-made grief filling the spaces between her ribs, and she rocks forward in his lap, extricates her hand from his to cradle his face in her palms and press her forehead to his. Castle sucks in a breath, his hands jerking back to her hips, ready to pry her away, but she nudges his nose, presses in even closer, and hopes he believes the next words that fall from her mouth. "But I never stopped wanting you."
He's had this dream before.
Dreamt quite regularly of Kate Beckett sneaking into his apartment, into his bed, waking him with her voice in his ear and her body at his side. For a long moment, when he peels his eyes back to the soft hum of her voice, the soothing touch of her hand at his back, he's certain that he's having that dream again. Not surprising considering her reprising role in his life and the fact that she was staying in the loft for the first time in months - albeit, in the wrong bed - but Kate from his dreams is never so tender, so tentative and restrained. And not even in his dreams has she ever apologized for the fight that broke them.
Her fingers curl at his ears and he notices her lip is trapped between her teeth, a sign of apprehension, and he wants nothing more than to assure her that it's mutual, that the yearning to have her back never receded, but part of him is still terrified of her, of how much he can love her and how vulnerable that makes him.
"Your mother's case," he gets out around a thick swallow, his throat still scratchy with sleep and the shock of having her back in his bed. "Whoever's behind it, they could come after you and I can't watch you die, can't-"
"No," she breathes, the decisive shake of her head causing her hair to fall in waves around their faces. "Castle, I don't - I just want you. I want you more."
Surprise spirals through his system and his heart begins to hammer, pounding against his ribs, upsetting the careful rhythm of his breathing.
"Devoting my entire life to her death... she wouldn't be happy with that, I'm not happy with it," she confesses, her eyes diverting to his shoulder with shame and regret flaring in the hazel irises. "One day I'll solve her case, without drowning in it, and I want you with me when I do."
"I will be," he promises, too willing to agree to every word out of her mouth, but - but he's just so tired of missing her and if he can have her back, he'll play the role of her partner in this case without a second thought. "I'll be there and we'll find justice for her, Kate. The right way."
She nods, unconvinced but accepting. "But until then, I'm putting it away, focusing on the more important aspects of my life."
"Like?" Castle's brow hitches in question, hope blooming bright and dangerous in his chest, and her lips curl as she tilts forward, brushes her mouth over his in a feather soft kiss that has him needing more and when she stays, her lips parted in offering, he takes.
Kate moans in quiet approval as he slants his mouth over hers, slides his hands into her hair to angle her, deepening the kiss as his entire body exalts at the fulfilled craving of her. She doesn't hold back, of course, she never has, and he tightens his grip in her hair, growls around the nip of her teeth to his bottom lip, the flush press of her hips in the cradle of his. It's a little raw, a rough clash of teeth and tongues and the surge of her body into his - everything he wanted to do to her that night she kicked him out - and desperate, the ache of missing her fierce and living like a starving beast in the inferno she's lit within his abdomen.
"You," she gasps, wrapping her arms around his neck, his head, her entire frame curled around him. "You, you, just you," she chants, her gaze serious and pleading as it lifts to hold his, the soft fringe of her lashes tangling in his while her chest still heaves, breasts pushing up against him.
Castle rolls her, swallowing the mewl that climbs her throat when he sinks down to rest atop her, finding home between the taut muscles of her thighs. Her back arches with impatience that he recognizes and Rick snags the hem of her oversized t-shirt, pushes the worn fabric of the sleep shirt up to reveal the flat of her stomach, the creamy skin that calls for his claim.
Her hands cup his skull as he kisses a path up her abdomen, her torso, scraping his teeth and gliding his tongue over each newly revealed patch of skin as he peels her shirt off. They work together to toss the t-shirt from her body and then she's lying beneath him, gorgeous and bare save for the black cotton that still clings to her hips, and Castle feels his breath catch.
"Kate." Her eyes flutter open, liquid gold pools shimmering up at him, and her legs twine around his waist, drawing him down, his body sinking deeper into the cove of hers. The urgency still crackles between them, the need to make up for time lost, but she takes her time when she captures his mouth, suckling at his bottom lip and stroking her tongue along the roof of his mouth with a reverence he's never experienced before.
"Castle." He blinks, dazed from the worship of her lips, from the smile that has spread so bright and beautiful across her face. "I love you too."
Prompt: You live in the apartment above me and your water pipe burst and is flooding into my apartment and you can hear me yelling so you come down to my apartment to see what's going on and witness me standing in my kitchen, holding an umbrella, screaming at the water pouring out of my ceiling, and crying because I have no idea what to do and we both just kinda stand there in shock as my stuff gets ruined and you let me crash in your apartment until my apartment gets fixed because you feel bad AU.