Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

He freezes, broom in hand. In the space between two far-more-rapid-than-normal heartbeats he processes what she is and isn't wearing; that she's not pointing a gun at him; that she looks frail, and that she might not fully remember her mini textathon of a few hours ago. "Uh, picking up the beans you spilled."

"Oh. What? Oh. You're not wearing a shirt." He's not wearing a shirt better than she'd imagined even in her smuttiest dreams.

"You're not wearing any pants."

She reacts by looking down, blushing, turning as fast as she can—which is very slowly—and taking a few halting steps towards her bedroom.

He drops the broom and it clatters on the floor. "Kate! Kate! Wait! Beckett." He catches up to her and wraps his large hand softly around her sharp elbow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It just popped out. I hardly even noticed that you didn't have pants on." He feels her stiffen under his touch, but he plows on. "I mean, I didn't notice the way it sounded that I noticed." At that, he feels her body soften a little. "It's going to be really hot today. I heard. On the radio, you know, driving up. And it is already. Quite, quite warm. So it's good not to have pants on. Or a shirt. Like me. I don't mean that you shouldn't be wearing a shirt." Oh, if only she were armed, he could just shoot himself right now.

During his verbal stumbling, she has gradually turned so that she's facing him, and she looks confused. "Where's your shirt?"

"My shirt?" He has to think a moment. "Oh. Wrapped around the coffee grinder."

She looks even more confused. "Why?"

"I was afraid the noise of it would disturb you, so I used my shirt as a muffler. It worked, right? Didn't it? Please tell me that's not what woke you up."

"No, I smelled coffee. First I thought I was crazy. But I knew I really did."

Her nose is twitching. She looks like the world's cutest bunny. He wonders if there's such a thing as carrot-flavored coffee. "You did. Do. Smell coffee."

"I thought my Dad came back."

"Your Dad?"

"He's not supposed to until Saturday, but isn't it Monday today? But who else would be making coffee?"

Okay, so zero memory of the late-night texting? But she's not mad at him for being here, so that's something. "I would. I'm making it. And it must be ready by now, so let's have some. You want coffee, don't you?" What a question.

"I'm dying for it."

Should he help her to the kitchen? Does she need to sit down? She looks a little shaky, but he can give her an out. "You want to have it here, or in the kitchen?"

"Maybe here. Just for now."

Oh, he knows what she's doing. Doesn't want him to see her walking so slowly. Doesn't want him to think she's weak. "Great. I'll go get it." He's at the coffeemaker and about to reach for the mugs when she calls out.

"Castle?"

He takes a few steps so he can see her. "Yeah?"

"You have to mix it with decaf. I can't have it straight yet. Sorry."

"No apologies necessary. Won't take me long to make." It doesn't, but it feels like it. He's all fidgets, trying to work out how to talk her. Until 25 days ago it had been very easy. Still, she hasn't thrown him out. And why the hell isn't Josh here? Happy as he is that he's not. The decaf, awful as it must be, is finally ready and Castle takes a few steps sideways again. "How much decaf, how much real?"

"Fifty-fifty's good."

He carries out the mugs, gives one to her, and is about to sit down when he sees a little wood-and-rush stool in the corner. He picks it up and positions it between their chairs. "There. Perfect coffee table, Beckett."

"Yup." She takes a tentative sip, then a long swallow that results in two things. The first is an exquisite expression on her face, the second is a sound that's new to him, a protracted, quiet moan that covers two octaves and a wide palette and is the most erotic thing ever to reach his ears. He's unsuccessfully ignoring it, and almost sure that she's unaware that she's making any sound at all, certainly not an X-rated one. He forces himself to look away before she opens her eyes.

"Mmm, this is so good, Castle. Thank you."

"You're welcome." And thank you, Kate. Thank you for that moan that I can live on for a long, long time.

She takes another healthy gulp and pushes herself up to a standing position. "Gotta get something."

When he sees what this is costing her, he jumps up. "I'm happy to do that. Just point me in the right direction."

It's not the death glare to which she has subjected him on more than one occasion, but it's pretty ferocious. Not pretty. Ferocious and beautiful. "I'm not an invalid, Castle. I can do it myself. Been coping on my own since yesterday." She turns and heads for the kitchen at about a tenth her usual pace.

Coping? Au contraire, he thinks, exhausting most of his French vocabulary. If those texts were her coping, well. Jim had warned him but still, it's almost too much to bear, this watching her, and when she finally reaches the doorway he gets the mugs and goes to join her. She's gripping the counter with one hand and trying to open a pill bottle with the other. "Want a refill, Beckett?" he asks brightly.

"In a minute." She needs her pain killers, but doesn't want him to see, so she moves as close as she can with the hope that she's blocking his view. She can't get the freaking top off, must have jammed it back on last night. Last night. Did she even take any last night? She must have. Couldn't have gotten through the night without it. She'd pulled something when she tried to pick up the beans that she'd spilled. The beans. Oh, Castle was sweeping up the beans. How did he know about the beans? Oh, because he saw them when he came in? Why did he come? She can't work it out at the same time that she's working on this damn bottle.

Castle pours another coffee for her and puts a safe distance on the left. She's struggling so with that bottle top. The hell with it, he doesn't care if she bites his head off. "Looks like that's stuck, and I've got both hands free. How about if I give it a go?" She doesn't say no, and though she doesn't say yes, either, he figures that her letting go of the meds is her way of giving him permission. As soon as he has the top off, she grabs the bottle from his hand, pours two tablets in her hand, and slaps the bottle on the counter. She reaches out for her mug and washes down her meds with half the scalding hot coffee. Doesn't even flinch.

"Would you like some breakfast? I could make some toast and eggs."

"No."

"Should you maybe put something in your stomach with those pi—"

"I'm fine, Castle. Stop mother henning me."

"Okay, sorry. Hey, how about this? Why don't we sit out on the porch for a while, enjoy the fresh air before it gets too hot?"

"Yeah, okay. Just gonna rest here a minute."

While she does that, he opens the fridge, extracts a cantaloupe, cuts it into bite-size chunks, and puts them in a bowl. Surely she won't object. It's not as if he's going to force feed her. From the corner of his eye he sees her straighten up. Good, the painkillers must be beginning to do their job. "I'll just take our mugs," he says, before she can protest, taking both in one hand and the fruit in the other. He pushes open the back door with his butt and stays there until she can get through. "You want a rocking chair, or a straight-backed one?"

"Rocking. I like to rock."

"You've rocked as long as I've known you, Beckett."

That gets him a smile. Meds are definitely working. He'll rock quietly until she's up to more. Maybe he can persuade her to eat a little. The silence at least is not strained, but oddly peaceful. He closes his eyes. He'd been up most of the night, and was drifting off, maybe did drift off, but then she giggled and he nearly shot out of the chair.

"Hey, Castle."

"Oh. Hey, Beckett. Sorry if I dropped off."

"That's okay, 'cause even though you dropped off you dropped in. Get it?" She claps her hands and laughs.

Beckett's laughing. Oh, the meds. "I do! Good one. I'm going to get some water. Want some?"

"Nooooo, I just want cofffeeeee!"

He doesn't really need water, he wants to check the label on her prescription. While he pours a glass, he steals a look. Shit. One pill, twice a day. She just took two, he'd seen her. And he bets that she'd done the same thing last night, since her father hadn't been here to dish them out. Bernstingle had told him it wouldn't hurt her, but still. He's going to have to keep an eye on this, control it somehow. He walks out to rejoin her.

"Hi, Castle!" She's beaming.

"Hi," he says, sinking down on the rocker.

"Wanna help me take off my sock?" She's stretching her foot towards him.

"Of course. I'll pull it right off, promise it won't hurt." He takes hold of the fuzzy toe, gives it a tug, and lays the sock on the gray-painted floor of the porch. "I'll leave it here until we go back in."

She's still smiling. "Ya know what?"

He'll play along. Happily. "No, what?"

"I'm so sexcited that you came!"

The water comes right out of his nose and lands on his lap, except for one large splash that hits him in the middle of his chest. "What?" He hadn't intended to ask, but she's right there with her bare legs and her little Rosie the Riveter tee shirt under which she doesn't have a bra. He's trying not to notice, truly, but Mother Nature won't let him. Mother Nature's actually encouraging him.

"I said, 'I'm so sexcited that you came'."

Now he's trying to formulate some kind of bland response, but his voice isn't working at all.

"Cat got your tongue, Castle?"

No, the cat hasn't got my tongue but I'd love it if you did. And I had yours. He coughs. "No, nope. No." He grabs the bowl of fruit and holds it out to her. "How about some of this?"

She stares at it for several seconds before she raises her head and looks straight at him. An odd light has come into her eyes. "Did you cut up this melon?"

"I did, just a while ago. Looks good, doesn't it? Have some."

"Shouldn't you have made balls, Castle? It's a melon. I know I would love your balls. Oops! That's supposed to be a secret!"

TBC

A/N Thanks to all the readers, reviewers, favoriters, and followers. You brighten the day. Special thanks to Madelynn one, whose typo "sexcited" in her review of the previous chapter led to my adopting the word, with her permission. I'll be on the road for a few days so probably won't be able to post the next chapter until Friday.