This was inspired by something I saw on tumblr a few months ago, but I can't remember exactly what it said. Something along the lines of "what if they didn't get into a fight at the book launch party?"

Disclaimer: Safe to say they aren't mine.

You

"I got the official offer."

"Wow…congratulations!"

"I haven't accepted it yet."

"But you're going to, aren't you?"

"What, you think I should?"

"Yeah, I mean, is there a reason why you wouldn't?"

"I…" Castle stammers.

Kate dips her chin, leaning in slightly, a silent plea for him to continue his sentence.

"Well, no," he grits through his teeth, but it's a lie. A complete and utter lie. Ordinarily he'd be dancing in the streets at being offered a chance to contribute to the character that first made him want to become a writer.

But his life has been anything but ordinary since Kate Beckett crashed his book party last year. And he's not sure he's ready to go back to the way it was before.

He's not sure he's ready to walk away from her.

But he's also ninety-nine percent sure that telling her this won't end well. She's made it clear that she's not overly interested in him and isn't particularly thrilled about his constant presence. He occasionally sees hints to the contrary but these are greatly overshadowed by eye rolls and general signs of annoyance. Not exactly telltale signals that she's interested in his continued presence in her life.

Except…

She's looking at him with a mixture of emotion clouding the beautiful greenish-brown of her eyes and he's not at all sure how to interpret it. If he had to guess, he'd say it's a mixture of stunned and confused and something else that she's trying her best to hide. Something that almost resembles sadness.

But that means…

Maybe he's misinterpreted some things over the last few months. Or maybe he's just desperately searching for a reason to stay.

"Well, uh, good luck," Kate stammers eventually. "I know you'll do it justice."

"Thanks," Castle answers weakly. "Enjoy the party."

Kate offers a meek smile before turning away, and he feels his heart sink with every step she takes because this encounter has turned into the one thing he was hoping to avoid – an end to their partnership and, most likely, her presence in his life.

He's not even remotely okay with that notion.

"You," he blurts suddenly, the word clumsily rolling off his tongue. He sees her step falter before she comes to a stop and slowly, hesitantly turns to face him.

"What?"

"You asked me if there was a reason I wouldn't take the offer," he states. "And there is."

Castle takes a step closer, pauses to wait for her reaction, and when she doesn't move he takes another. And a third, until the space between them is no more than two feet.

"The other offer is amazing," Castle continues honestly. "I'd be stupid not to take it. But walking away from Nikki – from you – would be even more stupid."

He watches her eyes widen and her mouth fall open in shock. He's rather surprised himself that he's finally found the courage to put his feelings into words. But the thought of never seeing her again is more than he can handle, and if keeping her in his life means spilling his guts in the middle of his book launch party where people are probably listening in on their conversation, then that's exactly what he'll do.

"I didn't write that dedication because it sounded good on the page," he continues, the words spilling out unstoppably now. "I wrote it because I meant it. Every single word. You're an incredible person, Kate. In so many ways."

She's not sure if it's the genuine earnestness in his eyes or the gentle way he says her name, but she suddenly finds herself fighting back tears, has to close her eyes against the onslaught of emotion.

No.

She's absolutely not going to cry. Not in public, and certainly not because of Castle and his words.

"And I can't imagine not having you in my life," he finishes, seemingly oblivious to her internal struggle.

Kate opens her mouth to speak, closes it, apparently at a loss for words. He can't say he blames her; he's still in shock himself that he's finally managed to verbalize the feelings that have been overwhelming him for so long. But he's come this far, and he has nothing more to lose, so he takes another risk.

"I'm not asking for anything in return," he says in a low voice. "I just wanted you to know."

"Castle, I…"

What? She what?

Kate has no idea what to say, doesn't have the slightest idea where to even begin. Because Richard Castle essentially just confessed his love to her. In public. In a room surrounded by cameras and reporters.

"I can't do this," she finally manages, already turning away from him. "Not here."

The final words are soft, nearly lost in the noise of the room, but Castle is solely focused on her and he hears them loud and clear.

Not here.

But maybe somewhere else?

He can work with that.

Kate leaves the party early, staying long enough to seem acceptable but sneaking out before she ends up in another encounter with Castle. It's October and a fall chill has settled over the streets of Manhattan but Kate is still pretty wired from the lights and noise and, well, Castle's words. Both the written and spoken ones.

So she pulls her coat tightly around her shoulders and sets off on foot. Her apartment isn't terribly far, maybe a twenty minute walk. She takes the time to relax, to let the cool night air calm the pounding of heart while the sights and sounds of the New York nightlife distract her from her swirling, confused thoughts.

By the time she arrives home, her heart rate has stabilized somewhat.

But her thoughts are still running wild, memories of all the annoying, irritating, frustrating things he's done fighting to convince her that he didn't mean the words he said tonight. And even if he did, she has plenty of reasons to ignore them, pretend it never happened and go back to solving crimes like she did before he nosed his way in and upended her life.

Except she doesn't want that.

As much as she's been trying to convince herself that Castle is nothing but an annoying liability – and he is both of those things – she can't deny that she's getting used to having him around. Enjoys it, even.

Kate sighs heavily, pushes the thoughts away and focuses on slipping out of her dress and heels and into pajamas. She washes her face and brushes her teeth, fishes the array of bobby pins from her hair before switching off the lights and settling into bed.

It's two a.m. and she's exhausted. Her brain, however, has other ideas.

She sees him moving on to his new book series, Nikki Heat's story forever unfinished. (As much as she hates to admit it, she liked Heat Wave. A lot.) As years pass, the new series appears on shelves, first one book, then another and another, all with his name on the spine and his photograph on the back. He's slightly older in each photo, wrinkles appearing here and there as years pass, but his blue eyes are piercing and unchanged as they stare at her from the back cover.

The same eyes she sees every day at the precinct, the same ones that float through her restless dreams now.

At six o'clock, she gives up all pretense of sleeping and decides to go for a jog to clear her head. Kate laces up her running shoes and heads out into the dawn, buildings casting long shadows over the city streets, interrupted by stripes of sunlight bringing subtle pockets of warmth to the morning air.

Kate sets off at a relatively brisk pace, the cool air refreshing as it enters her lungs and the patterned tattoo of her feet against concrete eliciting a sense of constancy. As though all has returned to normal and the events of last night are but a passing dream.

She travels her normal route in less than her normal time so she detours around a few extra blocks before arriving back at her building, panting and sweating but feeling thoroughly rejuvenated. She walks to the end of the block and back to catch her breath before entering her building, climbing the flights of stairs to her apartment. She emerges from the stairwell, thoroughly enmeshed in retrieving her key from the inside front pocket of her pants, and startles when she lifts her head, finds herself face to face with…

"Castle?"

Well, crap.

"Good morning, Detective," he greets cheerfully.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, forgoing any sort of friendly response. The whole point of going for a run was to put him out of her mind for the time being. She'd figured he'd find his way back in eventually. She just hadn't thought it would be quite so soon.

"Just stopping by for a visit."

She wedges the key into the lock, turns it with more force than necessary. "Castle."

He extends his left arm. "I brought coffee."

Kate steps around him and into her apartment. "I just got back from a run."

"I can see that," Castle observes. He's been astutely aware of the knee-length spandex pants, figure-hugging spandex top, and the heavy rise and fall of her chest since the moment she stepped into the hallway.

"Castle," she scolds, whipping around to find him standing in her foyer, eyes firmly fixed on, well, not her face.

"Sorry." He at least has the decency to appear chastened. He steps tentatively into her kitchen, sets the coffee on the counter before tucking his hands into his pockets. "You can save it for later."

She unscrews the lid from a water bottle and takes a few gulps, relishing the cool liquid wetting her throat. When she sets the bottle down, he's still there, looking adorably confused and uncertain.

"What, Castle?"

He takes a breath, exhales slowly. This is it.

"You didn't say no."

"What?" She's not following.

"You said not here," he repeated. "Before you left last night. You said 'I can't do this here.' But what about somewhere else?"

"And you decided the best 'somewhere else' would be my apartment at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning?"

He shrugs. "Figured you're an early riser. Didn't want to miss you before you left for the day."

It's only then that Kate notices the dark circles under his eyes, his untucked t-shirt, the way his bangs flop down over his forehead more than usual.

"Have you slept?" she asks.

"Not really," he answers, seemingly unconcerned.

Kate tugs her lower lip between her teeth, inner battle waging. She should send him away. She needs more time to think. Words aren't her strong point, especially in situations like this.

But he looks incredibly sexy with his messy hair and day-old scruff on his jawline, blue eyes pleading as they search her face. It's adorable. And she can't help but give in.

"Fine."

An uncomfortable silence descends, broken finally by Castle.

"I haven't accepted the offer."

Kate folds her arms over her chest, leans a hip against her kitchen counter opposite Castle. "But you're going to?" she asks, a near echo of their conversation last night.

"I don't know," Castle answers truthfully. "Initial reviews are good. People love Nikki. I love Nikki."

Kate blinks. Did he just…?

"I want to do her story justice."

"There's not much more to tell," she hedges.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he insists. "I know there's more to Kate Beckett than meets the eye."

"I'm not Nikki Heat."

"No," he agrees. "But you're the inspiration for her."

"So you came here to ask for permission to write another book?" Kate asks, staunchly ignoring the disappointment that churns in her stomach.

"I wouldn't be averse to that scenario," he answers. "But I actually came here to ask if you'll go on a date with me."

The disappointment vanishes into thin air, rapidly replaced by nervousness and surprise.

"I. Umm. What?"

"I came here for you, Kate," he continues. "Whether that leads to me accepting the other offer and not shadowing you anymore or to me writing a second Nikki Heat novel and continuing to come to the precinct, I don't know. But I do know that, whatever happens, I want you in my life."

Kate opens her mouth, closes it again. Her throat is dry (from running, of course), her heart is pounding (also from her run), and butterflies are fluttering in her stomach (maybe she can pass it off as hunger).

She hesitates.

"Have dinner with me," Castle suggests softly, gentle eyes searching hers. "Tomorrow. Or tonight. Or next week. Just you and me and a delicious meal. I promise. It doesn't have to be anything more than that."

Dinner with Castle?

Yeah, okay.

She supposes she can do that.

There's a knock on her door at precisely six-fifty-nine that evening. Castle stands on the other side, wearing black pants and a black jacket over a deep blue shirt that highlights his striking cobalt eyes. Kate swings open the door, eyes falling on him, and her mouth goes dry.

He looks good.

Really good.

There's a bouquet of flowers in his hand – of course he brought her flowers – and a hopeful smile on his face.

She's still too busy staring at him to call him out for doing precisely the same to her. She chose a form-fitting black dress; the straps widen as they travel down into a modest vee in the front, covering enough that she can wear a bra while revealing a teasing amount of cleavage. The dress is fitted from the waist down, highlighting her curves and falling to just above the knee. She paired it only with simple black heels and ringlet curls in her hair. She'd known she was taking a risk by keeping things simple but from his reaction now, she made the right call.

"Kate…" he breathes. "You look…wow."

She manages a smile even as heat flushes her cheeks. "You're not so bad yourself," she murmurs, hoping her voice sounds steadier to him than it does to her.

"I uh, here," he extends the flowers. "For you."

She takes the colorful bouquet and their fingers brush during the exchange, sending tingles up her arm and heat through her veins.

He's been here for all of two minutes and she already knows this date isn't going to end with dinner.

It doesn't.

It ends the next morning when her phone rings at nine-forty-three. She wriggles out of his arms to reach for the device only to find herself tugged back against Castle's broad, naked chest as she accepts the call and listens to Ryan's voice on the other end.

There's been a murder.

Kate reluctantly slips out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom, Castle watching her every step of the way. He's still in bed when she reappears, deliciously naked and rumpled and all she wants to do is climb back into bed and go for round three.

Instead, she sends him home for a change of clothes, insisting that he can't show up at a crime scene in the clothes he wore on their first date. He pouts but obliges, pressing a toe-curling kiss to her lips before he departs, leaving her a breathless puddle of mush.

That man.

When she arrives at the crime scene, it takes all the strength she has to focus on the dead body, and even then she's not particularly sure she's succeeding.

Wait, what did Ryan just say again?

Castle appears a few minutes later, coffee in each hand and eyes trained on his sexy inspiration as she examines the area, brow creased in concentration.

And, oh, she's inspired him in all sorts of new ways now.

Page 105?

He mentally scoffs at his own naiveté.

He had no idea.

END