Prepare yourselves for one of the most uniquely written fanfictions ever to hit this site. This particular story was a collaborative effort between 14 amazingly talented authors: AllusionToAnIllusion, annieporcupine, daphnebeauty, Emmba, Incendiary, aplacetomakeyourstand, lowenherz, luminous lu, maliciousmorg, River, sweetmary1212, tellmeyouneedme, BTF, and NikH. (If I've left out anyone who contributed, please let me know so I can add you). We all took turns writing sentences, paragraphs, and dialogue (campfire style) until our collective imaginations produced this little beauty.

It's pretty much amazing, if I do say so myself. This fandom has some serious talent even in those who don't consider themselves "writers".

Note: This story was written for FUN. Not to showcase our skills or create a "normal" fic. It was a chance to get together and have a good time. No need to tell us it's not up to par. We don't care. That's not why it was written.

The Last Brick

She'd always loved the city in the evening, the bright flashing lights overhead and the bustling crowds like a current carrying her to whatever adventure the city provided. She walked down the streets, the wind blowing in her face. She stopped to watch the people around her. Who were they? A sea of grey trench coats broken only by the occasional flash of a scarf spread out before her, a choreographed and complex ebb and flow. She'd always loved people watching; it was something she'd always done with her mother, and doing it now somehow kept her memory alive. Her thoughts were interrupted when out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a familiar head of flaming red hair.

"Martha?"

The woman turned, her bright pink and green coat swinging out around her. She stood out among the monotonous colors of New York City, a rainbow fish swimming with the trout. Kate had always been jealous of her confidence, flaunting her true self without any regrets. A big smile appeared on the older woman's face as she recognized the voice and in a matter of seconds, Kate found herself engulfed in a fierce hug.

"Darling!" Martha greeted, pulling back from the hug and framing Kate's face with her hands. "What are you doing in this part of town? Catching a play?"

Kate smiled softly, still slightly stunned by the quick embrace. "No. Actually, I was on my way to visit your son. I…needed to talk to him," she replied, sounding unsure of herself.

"Oh?" Martha asked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I trust it's nothing dreary, love? You've been in such good spirits lately." Martha threw the detective a wink and squeezed her arm.

"No, it's nothing bad," she said, with a hint of hesitance. "Are you on your way home? I'd be happy to take you."

"Oh, normally that would be lovely, dear! Unfortunately, I'm making my way to a dinner and Alexis is out with her friends, so you'll just have to manage on your own."

Kate smiled timidly and said, "I think I may be able to do that." Castle was at the loft. Alone. Why was she doing this again? "Well, I'll see you around, Martha. Have fun at your dinner." She loosened her grip on the neck of the wine bottle, surprised it hadn't already shattered under her anxious grip.

Castle was at his loft alone. And she was bringing wine.

…

She found herself standing in his door. How did I get here? Her heart was racing in her chest, the remaining cold of the streets fading, bringing in a warm feeling in her stomach. "Get yourself together Kate, you can do this". She raised her hand and knocked on his door.

She rapped on the door a few times, playing with the cork of the wine bottle as she waited for the red door to swing open. It didn't. Not for a good minute. The silence on the other side had butterflies of an entirely different nature fluttering through her stomach. This time when she hit her knuckles on the door, it opened just in time for her to give him a tap on the nose.

He jerked back in surprise and Kate felt her cheeks burn and her hand clenched against the neck of the bottle again, cursing herself for her lack of control as he eyed her with unsuppressed amusement. "A little late for abuse isn't it, detective?"

"Maybe. But is it too early for wine?"

She held up the bottle that was clutched within her hand, swinging it from side to side to tempt him. He raised his eyebrows and swung the door open wider, ushering her in with a grand sweep of his arm.

"It might be a tiny bit early…"

"Don't whine about wine, Castle. Where's your corkscrew?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and said, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Castle," she said. "Corkscrew. Now. Or you'll never know why I came over here." He immediately sobered and but his feet remained planted in place.

Quashing the nervous butterflies in her stomach she raised an eyebrow in response and gave him a long hard stare. "I was being courteous. I know exactly where it is" She glanced down so quickly he was sure he imagined it before she brushed past him into the loft and headed straight for the kitchen.

He turned around and looked as she moved swiftly across his place, walking into the kitchen and opening the right drawer. She pulled out the corkscrew with a victorious "Ha!" as he sat on one of the stools and watched her fumble with the bottle and the cork.

"So, Detective. What brings you into my dome of pleasure?"

"Well Castle, before we get down to business, let's make a toast." Kate forcibly popped the cork and set it aside. Castle handed her the wine glasses and she poured them each generous amounts.

"So what is this to, Detective?"

"To the last brick falling," she answered simply, clinking her glass against his. The look on his face was priceless. The emotions that flickered across his features ran the gamut.

"Kate..."

His face was full of emotion, voice faltering. He placed his hand over the rim of her glass to keep her from consummating the toast. "Does that mean...?" She nodded slowly, a play of emotions across her face.

Her eyes watched his face in nervous anticipation. She saw confusion. Surprise. And then a look of pure happiness and understanding. She watched as he took a small sip then raised his glass again, looking into her eyes and straight to her soul.

"To partners," he said, in a deep husky voice. "In every aspect of the word."

Did she know that the current was carrying her toward him? She thought maybe, on some level, there was never a doubt in her mind. All the red tape she held in place, holding her back from the demolition of that wall only served as proof that whatever this was would be worth it, always. With that in mind, she lifted her hand to his stiff blue button up, dragging her fingers upward, toward a place she hoped to call home.

She let her eyes flick to his lips before bringing them back to his eyes, wide pools of surprise, hope, and something she couldn't quite pinpoint. As his eyes deepened to the color of midnight she smirked and let her bottom lip find a home between her teeth.

Arousal, that's what it was.

She watched as his eyes locked onto her lips.

"Look at me, Castle".

He found her eyes. They were glistening with emotion, tenderness, and yes, there were traces of lust too. But he only saw love in them. She boosted herself up on her tiptoes, tilting her head to the side so their noses slid past each other. One of her hands came up to brush his cheek as her lips settled on the opposite one. It was a butterfly kiss, her lips barely meeting his jaw line.

She pressed a single wet kiss against the side of his jaw and blew softly causing his legs to give out and he swayed into her. Pressed against her. A traitorous finger escaped and found that small slit in his lapel, running over the raised thread just once before slipping through and tugging his heat closer. He was hers.

Her lips brushed against his in a glancing pass, searching for the perfect alignment. Waiting for the heavens to part.

"Kate."

His voice came through her mouth like a ray through the dark and she felt the rumble of his chest beneath her pressing palm, tectonic plates in a primal grind within him.

She melted into the slow heat of the kiss. His lips were smooth and reverent against her own and he tasted like a sweet summer night. Intoxicating. Vibrant. Sexy. She sank deeper into his arms, his kiss, his love. She wanted him in an undying, irrepressible, permanent aching sort of way. Wanted to feel the smooth of his skin against hers. Wanted to feel the beat of his heart beneath her lips.

This was love.

Final notes: I edited small things like spelling, pronoun confusion, and tiny inconsistencies. I left everything as close to each original author's contributions as possible. If you want me to switch any changes back, I can do that.

This story was more fun to write than anything else I've ever written and I think I speak for all of us when I say we hope you enjoy it too.