The loft was alive with ambience: gentle lighting, soft music playing in the background and the savoury scent of his famous Bolognese that slowly filled the air.

He had barely stepped through his door the other night when his phone chimed, not twenty minutes after leaving her.

Her message was brief; simple and straight to the point.

Brunch? I'll be at Angelo's Café at 10 if you're interested.

He smiled to himself as he typed out his reply.

Of course. See you there.

Unfortunately, she had been called into work and their 'brunch date' postponed. Brunch became dinner, dinner was pushed to maybe tomorrow? and then maybe tomorrow? turned into I'll call you, okay?

Throughout the week Kate had checked in as often as she could, used each quick text as an opportunity to apologise profusely despite his insistence there was no need for apologies. He was disappointed, sure, but that's life. Shit happens.

But tonight... tonight was a go! She'd given him the green light earlier in the afternoon; they'd closed their case, just had to finish the paperwork and she was free as a bird.

He had all but banished his mother and Alexis for the night. Not that he expected anything to happen - he respected Kate's need for time, he really did - but he still wasn't entirely sure where she stood in regard to meeting his family, and it wasn't particularly a subject he wanted to broach too soon and risk scaring her off.

So, for now, he was happy to keep these two parts of his life separate. For now.

He lifted the lid to stir his Bolognese sauce, breathing in as the rich aroma wafted to his nostrils. It was nearly done and Kate was due to arrive any moment now.

As if on cue, his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket; smiled at her name and face illuminating his screen.

"I hope you're hungry," he said when he answered the call. "I've cooked enough to feed a small army!"

The regretful sigh that echoed through the phone sunk his heart to the pit of his stomach.

She was cancelling. Again.

"Rick, I am so sorry."

"It's fine," he replied, forcing a smile in hopes that it would cover at least some of the disappointment in his voice.

"It's not fine, it's so last minute and you've already cooked! I feel awful."

"You're not awful, Kate. You don't have a standard nine-to-five job, I get it."

In her silence, he could hear the hustle and bustle around her: movement, voices, chaos. He could practically feel the stress of the precinct radiating through the phone and he knew the last thing she needed right now was to be worrying or feeling guilty about having to bail on him. So he took a deep breath, allowed his disappointment to melt away.

"Thankfully, I have no life whatsoever now that the tour is over," he said in jest. "I can work around whatever crazy hours you have to work."

Kate sighed, but he could hear her relief. "You're too good to me."

"I know."

Her chuckle, even when slightly strained, was like music to his ears.

"There will be leftovers if you want to call in when you're done," Rick informed her, hopeful that there might still be a chance - even a slight chance - of seeing her tonight.

"We've been called in on another case. It's high priority and all hands on deck right now. Looks like an all-nighter, unfortunately. I'm so sorry."

"That's okay," he assured her again. "I get it. We'll do dinner another night."

"I'd really like that. Thank you. Again-"

"You're sorry," he said, cutting her off before she could apologise again. He chuckled. "I promise you, Kate: it's okay. Now get back to work before you get in trouble! And don't forget to eat something!"

"Okay, Dad," she groaned and rolled her eyes, but she was grateful to have someone who cared the way Rick did. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Look forward to it."

Rick ended the call and looked around the loft and let out a heavy sigh. He turned off the cooktop, set the meal aside to be packed away once it cooled off.

He went to his office, started up his laptop and opened the outline for his next story. If he was going to be spending the night alone, he may as well be productive.

Kate walked into the 4th floor conference room, deflated. She was exhausted, had been running herself ragged all week (they all had) and was really looking forward to finally being able to just... relax with Rick.

As she settled down into the seat between Ryan and Karpowski, Ryan looked at her with sympathetic eyes.

"Thought you had a date," he stated.

She scanned the room. Esposito, Karpowski, Officer Thornton and Captain Montgomery - who had all lifted their gaze from the evidence letters in their hands, waiting for her response - quickly returned to the task at hand, dropping their eyes and looking busy. It wasn't often she would talk about her private life while at work, so she couldn't fault them for their curiosity, but the last thing she needed was to become the next day's break room gossip.

"It wasn't a date," she corrected Ryan as she reached for a letter from the pile in the centre of the table.

"That's like the third time you've bailed on him this week," Espo added, obviously feeling the need to toss fuel onto the fire.

Kate kept her eyes glued to the letter as she grumbled her response. "It's not like I had much choice."

Captain Montgomery chuckled. "Now you sound like my daughters."

She dropped the letter down slightly, just enough to peer over the top of the creased sheets of paper with narrowed eyes.

"I'm sorry," the Captain offered sincerely. "The Eight-Four requested my best for this case." He motioned to the select few people in the room. "This is my best. You'll be compensated for your time and I'm already making arrangements for a few days off after this. But... you could have just said you had plans."

"Well, I would have felt a little bad if I took the night off and a congressman was assassinated," she said with a shrug, going back to the letter in her hand.

"Being wined and dined by that hunky author of yours would certainly make it a little better, though," Karpowski mumbled, smirking as she tried to avoid eye contact with Kate.

"He's not my author and there's no wining and dining," Kate explained. "It wasn't a date."

Ryan and Esposito exchanged amused glances - didn't even try to be subtle about it - but before she could argue her point further, an officer knocked on the door and poked his head into the room.

"Pizza is here," he announced with a smile.

"We didn't order pizza," Montgomery informed the officer with a polite smile.

"Delivery guy said it was some kind of pay it forward thing," the younger man explained. "Some dude ordered like 20 pizzas for the precinct."

"She cancels on the dude and he ends up feeding the entire precinct," Esposito mused aloud to Ryan.

"Uh, no. You have no proof that it was him!" Kate retorted, but she had no doubt in her mind that some dude was in fact Richard Castle.

"It's gotta be witchcraft, right?" Ryan said to Esposito, ignoring Kate's interruption.

"Nah, dude's just whipped." Espo laughed.

"Just go eat your pizza," Kate dismissed with the wave of her hand.

As much as he would have loved to have spent more time with Kate, and as disappointed as he had been upon realising that wasn't going to happen, he'd actually had quite a good night.

Productivity - particularly when it came to his writing - was never something he could just dive into: he had to work his way up to it. So, when he had first sat down with his laptop he spent a good hour or two toying with the idea of a new character: a tough but savvy female detective who was more or less just what he imagined Kate would be like at work.

He'd heard tidbits from Ryan and Esposito. They had described her as very professional, a stickler for rules and the absolute last person they'd want to find themselves against in an interrogation room, but they'd also said that she was an enigma. One minute she's a total hard-ass, had grown men quaking and on the verge of tears, confessing to their crimes. The next, she's a totally different person, as soft as a teddy bear as she comforts the victim's family, assures them that she'll do everything in her power to bring justice to their loved one. And it's not just a platitude; she means it, with every fibre of her being.

That was the side of her he found easiest to imagine. Although he had no doubt that she could make a grown man cry, he knows her softer side. Sure, it's fairly well insulated behind layers of hurt and mistrust, but it's there.

He hoped that one day it would be set free. Hoped that one day he would set it free.

He wanted to write this character, to really cement her existence in his world, but he felt she deserved to be more than a subplot. So he saved the file and promised himself he would revisit the idea of Nikki Heat someday soon. But, for now, he had work to do. Actual work.

The words just seemed to pour from him; the world of his own creation coming to life on the screen before him. This would be the fourth book in his Five Families series - and possibly the last, that was yet to be decided - and he wanted it to be his best one yet. And thanks to the letter he had received just last month, it just might be.

He picked up the letter from where it lay on his desk and read over Joe Pulgatti's hand-written words.

There's nothing more dangerous out there than a killer with a badge.

A mob enforcer, a life sentence and a desperate claim of innocence. Rick knew he'd struck gold with this one.

His phone vibrated against his desk, alerting him to a new text message. He lifted the device and noticed the time - half past twelve - and decided it was well past time to call it a night.

He shut down his laptop, packed away his research and tucked Pulgatti's letter back into its envelope. Returning to his phone, he opened the message.

The Twelfth precinct sends its thanks.

He knew she'd figure it out, but that didn't mean he wouldn't deny it.

I have no idea what you're talking about, he sent back.

Immediately, his phone began to ring.

"Hello," he greeted with the cheesy smile he couldn't stop from spreading across his face every time she called.

"It's late. Did I wake you?"

"No, I was still up. I think you'll be pleased to know I've had a very productive night of writing," he boasted.

"I'm glad," she replied earnestly.

"You finished for the night?"

"Yeah, Cap sent us home, ordered us to get some rest," she informed him.

"Don't suppose I could tempt you with my famous Bolognese?"

"Shouldn't you be going to bed?"

"I've downed, like, a gallon of espresso!" he admitted. "I don't think I'll be sleeping for a week."

Kate laughed. "In that case... I'm outside."

The street was quiet, dark, not at all what she would have expected given the location. Sure, it was the middle of the night. But this is the city that never sleeps!

And yet here she was, standing in near-silence, kicking around a stone on the sidewalk as she waited for Rick to come outside.

She had insisted on not going inside; a last ditch effort to stay in control. She had, after all, showed up at his place in the middle of the night on a whim, hoping he was still awake - and, honestly, full prepared to wake him if he wasn't. Not exactly what she would call in control, but the urge to see him tonight was overwhelming. Scarily so.

She'd never felt so drawn to someone before and it terrified her. Exhilarating, but dangerous. And there was a very loud part of her telling her to just give in.

"Eduardo." She heard the familiar voice greet the doorman that she'd turned her back to just moments ago.

She turned, smiled when her eyes met his.

"Mr Castle," the doorman returned his greeting with a polite nod. "I did inform Ms Beckett that she was welcome to wait inside."

"He did," she confirmed, hoping the kind man wouldn't be in any sort of trouble because she had stubbornly refused stepping foot inside the building.

"Yeah, she's a pain like that sometimes," Rick joked to Eduardo.

Eduardo cracked a smile, but schooled himself quickly and returned to his original, neutral expression.

"From now on, though, feel free to just come right up," Rick said, turning his attention back to her.

She smiled. From now on... she liked the sound of that.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Like... right now, maybe?" he hinted.

She shook her head. "I just wanted to say goodnight."

"Could've just called," he stated bluntly.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. Yeah, she could have just called. But that wouldn't have satisfied the need to see him.

"What?" he asked, knowing very well what had her stunned. "Didn't expect me to call you out like that?"

"Not really," she admitted, smiling.

He smirked, obviously enjoying this.

"Come on," he urged, tilting his head back toward the entrance of his building. "I want to show you my place."

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. What's his place like? Is it as bold as his personality? Homely and lived in or did it look like it belonged in an interior design magazine? What could she learn about him from how he presented his home?

"Well, if you insist."

She looked around, mouth agape, absolutely awed by the grandeur of his home. It was easily larger than Lanie's place and, judging by the staircase to her left, this was only part of it.

"Three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs," he said as he placed his palm on her lower back and guided her further into his space. "Nothing of interest up there, really."

"Huh," she huffed, amused.

She's living out of a suitcase, crashing on her friends couch. Meanwhile, he's referring to his beautiful home as nothing of interest.

It never ceased to amaze her: the things people tend to take for granted.

Not that she blamed him. Her home - the home she had with Adam - was beautiful, too. She sure as hell didn't appreciate it enough when she had it.

Her eyes drifted across the room, landing on the partitioning book shelves on the other side.

"Is that all books?" she asked, her feet already moving in their direction.

He followed her, opening the door to his office when she stopped just shy of reaching for the handle.

"It's okay, you can go in there."

She stepped into his office, eyes scanning the room and absorbing as much information as possible. The artwork, the photographs, the Knick-knacks; all small parts of who he is, of what's important to him.

She turned back to face the book shelves, stared with child-like wonder at what had to have been a thousand novels.

"Have you read them all?" she asked, still scanning the colourful array before her.

"Mhmm. The shelf in the bedroom is the stuff I haven't read yet."

She gasped. Actually gasped. "There's more?"

This place was like a dream.

Rick chuckled. "I'm glad my book collection impresses you, Detective."

She bit her lip trying to hide the smile spreading across her face. There was something about the way he said that - Detective - that sent tingles down her spine.

She shook her head, ignored the flush of heat in her cheeks.

"First of all, this isn't a book collection, this is a damn library," she gushed. "And second..."

She turned and moved toward him.

"I find many things about you - much more than just your book collection - impressive, Rick."

Rick smiled, and the tingles were back; dancing through her entire body.

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

She stepped back to the book shelf, trailed her finger along the spines of the books until she found what she was searching for.

"I think I've heard of this guy before," she joked as she pulled one of Rick's novels from the shelf. She flipped open the book, looked at his portrait on the inside of the dust jacket. "Cute," she accidentally said out loud.

"Cute?" he scoffed, evidently not impressed by the compliment. She couldn't help but smile.

"Can I borrow this one?" she asked, holding the book up to show him.

"Uh, sure." He narrowed his eyes, confused. "But that's the last one of the series," he informed her.

"I know. The bookstore near the precinct didn't have this one in stock. They're getting one in for me but-"

Her words fell silent as she looked up at him, saw him looking at her with what could only be described as utter adoration.

"What?" she asked, a nervous laugh escaping her.

"You bought my books?"

He was... surprised. As if he hadn't expected her to want to read his work. "Of course," she said as she shrugged.

His response was instant. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

"I would have gotten you copies."

Everybody wants something from me.

Kate sighed. "I know it's silly and one book sale probably doesn't even register for a bestseller like yourself, but I wanted to be... supportive, I guess."

Rick smiled, allowed the sincerity of the moment to soak in.

"That's not silly," he said. "I appreciate that you wanted to do that for me."

"Well... I appreciate you." She hugged his book to her chest. "Seriously. I'm really glad I met you."

"Me too."

She could have stayed gazing into his eyes for an eternity, but as each second passed - and the butterflies in her stomach grew stronger - she knew she had to leave.

"I should-"

She swallowed, dropped her eyes to the book she was clutching.

"Thanks for this," she said as she held the book in the air. "I'll return it as soon as I'm done. I'm not sure when I'll get to it, though."

"Take your time." He smiled. "I don't think I'll be needing it anytime soon."

"Talk tomorrow?"

His eyes flicked to the clock on his desk, then back to Kate. "Today, technically."

Kate smiled and rolled her eyes. "Get some sleep, Rick." She stepped forward and placed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll talk to you later."