A/N: There is an 'M' rated addition to this chapter (Requiem Rising).
Friday did not go like they'd planned.
Like his birthday or Christmas, Friday morning caught Rick Castle very early. He remembered the reason for his excitement immediately.
Kate.
He had an overnight bag packed and was ready for the station early enough to make Alexis suspicious.
"Vegas for the second time this month?" Her voice of judgment made him instantly defensive. He already felt guilty enough.
"Leave your father alone, I think he may have more responsible plans for this weekend," Martha piqued her granddaughter's interest.
"What plans?"
"Nothing I want to discuss," Castle tucked his head in the fridge.
"Not working I presume," Martha egged.
"No mother, not working and I'll thank you to leave my daughter out of this conversation."
"Nothing to be said dear, I approve," and with that she floated out of the room.
"Let me know when I can approve your relationships Mother," he called after her.
"What's going on dad?"
"Nothing Pumpkin, you spending the night with your friends?"
She gave him a dramatically curious look, but dropped the subject just as suddenly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer now that she considered the overnight bag.
Kate had a problem.
The intoxicating smell of her auto-timed 5 AM coffee was seriously hampered by the alarming sloshing sound her slippers now made.
It is going to be one of those days, she thought, reaching for the phone.
Twice in the past two weeks she had seen Castle life-falteringly disappointed over something she'd said.
This time it was to tell him that their weekend would need to be put on hold.
"Water is off until maintenance can fix the problem tomorrow morning. I don't want to wake up to some plumber."
His raised eyebrows were a huge clue to stop him.
"Don't," she growled, "don't say it."
He inhaled as if to respond again.
"Not that either," she responded.
Instead, he raised his pointer finger and ran it through the air between their heads, "connection," was all he said.
She rolled her eyes at him.
"You know Kate," turning serious, "Alexis is out with friends this weekend, and my mother has been out with her theatre friends for the weekend. You could 'show up' at my place instead."
She bit her lip. It was what she wanted, but not what she planned.
"Don't make me beg, pretty girl," he whispered.
"I don't even want to know how many other women you have said that to."
"You Kate, only you."
She lowered her head so she was peeking at him with doe-like eyes. "Alright Castle, I'll come home with you, but only cause I like you. "
"Best you can do Beckett?"
He spent the day like the last two contestants on a Ryan Seacrest- hosted show.
Beckett had no patience for a nine year old Castle. She knew he needed a task.
She sent him out to get lunch, down to get papers from Lanie, up to get her spare clothes from her locker in the Precinct Gym.
That last one he enjoyed. Picking through Kate's personal things was, in a word, nirvana. Inspired, he slipped back downstairs and stole a pad of Post-its and a black marker, then returned to the locker to leave her a few reminders that he had been there.
There was something about putting Kate's clothes in the bag with the ones he had packed for himself. It made him happy to think about his things touching her things inside the brown leather carryall. It was so . . . domestic. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine all of their future possibilities for that bag.
Two interrogations, a second visit to the apartment crime scene and one arrest later, Friday was over. Six o'clock saw her sign the last of the paperwork, she looked up at him as she closed the file and placed it on the stack.
"Ready?"
"Does the CIA run secret ops?"
"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"
"Goodnight Espo, Ryan."
"See you Monday," Ryan called back as Esposito did a mock salute, not looking up from what he was reading.
She cut the engine on the Crown Vic as they pulled in front of his apartment, "nervous?"
"Yeah."
"Me too. Too much build up."
He leaned in to her and kissed her softly, "or not enough."
"Let's go practice," she said breathily.
********* (an alternative 'M' rated version of this section exists – Requiem Rising)***********
He was standing in front of the fireplace at his loft watching her stalk toward him, glass of red wine in each hand.
"Thank you", he extended a hand to take the glass from her, intentionally stroking her fingers.
Her eyes were focused on him, the light from the fire reflecting softly off her hair, her eyes, her countenance.
"So, here we are," she started.
"To partners," he said, clinking their glasses.
"Is that what we are?" She echoed their old argument.
"You want a label Kate?"
She blinked, surprised at the turn. This was more serious than she was prepared for when she'd slipped off her shoes and poured the wine. She was expecting him to get down to a different kind of business.
"Do *you* want a label?"
"I want people to know we're together. I want celebrate what we have."
"Well," she said, breaking the intensity, "how to you want to celebrate?" She took his glass from his hand and turned to place them both on the table. His arms were ready for her, but her finger was poking into his chest pushing him back as soon as she turned around.
"Kate, don't you want to celebrate with me?" He smiled treacherously.
"Yes," she said slowly with a bit of a tease, "yes, I do." She'd backed him into corner on the couch, where he plopped unceremoniously.
She kneeled above him, placed both hands on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him, long and slow and sweet.
Exhilaration ran though her as he pulled her low into his lap, cradling her head on the crook of his elbow and the arm of the couch. She reached up with her free hand to caress his face.
Silence skipped a beat as he leaned in to kiss her, his free hand trailing her hip, thumb stroking the curve of her body.
For all his goofy awkwardness at times, he was a good kisser. Lips soft, heart tender.
She was ethereal, and his. He moved to pinch her rear.
"What the hell was that?" She reluctantly broke their kiss.
"Pinched you."
"Why?"
"To see if you were real."
She woke up first, pressed into his side, her hand on his chest, he on his back, still smiling in his sleep. On her face, joy unmasked. She watched him a long time before he spoke, eyes still shut.
"Rick, I love you."
He opened his eyes to look at her. No jokes, no humor, just precious truth pressing through the dam of delusions and hurt that held them both back for so long.
He moved to lie over her, her glorious hair radiating around an enraptured face.
His quirky laugh punctuated the air as he shook his head.
"What?"
"You were so right, I had no idea. " He kissed her, mouths beginning the ritual again, like a second leap off a high point into refreshing water, fear over, excitement and addiction awakened.
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