He wakes in the middle of the night to an empty bed, lifting his fingers to press them into the hollow of her hips to get closer, desperate for her proximity after their fight had left her in tears. His hand falls to the bed, the thump echoing the beat of his aching heart.

After they'd hashed everything out and he slid his warm mouth over her wet cheeks in apology, she huddled into the corner of the couch under a big blanket, quiet and small as she watched the tv flicker without the sound on. He tried to tug her into bed, knew they were both exhausted and had an early morning ahead of them, but she shook her head - needed a few more moments of quiet. He left her in her spot only after she assuaged his worry with a gentle kiss, sweeping an I love you across his jaw before promising to join him soon.

He shivers as he tosses the covers to the side, fumbling with the pair of sweatpants he discarded next to the bed. He pulls them on and slips an old tee shirt over his head before padding out to the living room, expecting to find her asleep against the arm of the couch, curled into a ball under the blanket.

But the couch is empty and the blanket has been folded, placed neatly back into its spot along the back of the couch. He's halfway up the stairs to the guest room before he notices that her flats are missing from their spot by the door along with her favorite pea coat, the one she only wears on her downtime because the pockets have worn through and she's lost all but one of the buttons. He's lost count of the number of times he's told her she could buy the exact same one online, but she always rolled her eyes, like it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

It's not the same, Castle. Where's the character?

And it shuts him up every time, makes him breathless - the knowledge that she thinks about things like that. It makes him feel less ridiculous about all the nuances he finds in everything, puts him more at ease, the fact that he can be himself around her -

It makes him fall in love with her a little bit more, a feat that's still surprising because he always feels overwhelmed with it, as if there's no room for more. He's constantly shifting - making room for more - because he wants it all, wants everything she'll give him. Even if he bursts into flames because of it.

He shoves his feet into a pair of moccasins and wraps his coat tightly around him before heading out to brave the nipping New York air.

He only makes one stop, knows there's really only one place she'd be at this time of night when work isn't beckoning to her.

He finds her at their place in a booth in the back, wrapped in a cable knit sweater and a pair of leggings. The strands of hair that have escaped her bun and fall around her face do little to disguise her exhaustion. He wonders if she's slept at all, or if she stayed up the entire night musing before giving into a craving.

She nurses a strawberry milkshake, sipping slowly; a plate of untouched fries sits at the end of the table, already forgotten.

He sighs before making a detour to the counter, ordering two cups of decaffeinated tea with real milk. He watches her out of the corner of his eye while he waits, noting the way she cars her fingers through her hair as she tilts her head to look out the window, breathing in the dim city lights as she curls her knees under her shirt.

He accepts the cups with a small, tired smile before tossing a few ones onto the counter and shuffling over to where she sits, careful not to startle her. He sets her cup down in front of her and she turns then, a protest on her lips. "Oh, I didn't order any-"

And then her soft eyes find his. "Castle," she says breathlessly, almost wondrous that he'd find her here.

Oh, Kate.

"Hey." He leans down and kisses her forehead before scooting in next to her, setting his tea down beside hers.

"You bought us tea?" she asks, a little amused.

"It's decaf."

She hums in response, reaching for a few packets of sweetener before she knocks them gently against the side of the table.

"You do realize that one of them equals two teaspoons of sugar, right?" he teases her, stirring his own with a tiny spoon.

She nudges him. "Shut up. I was craving something sweet."

"But you have me," he throws back, nudging his nose against her cheek. She laughs, a gentle, tinkling thing as she pushes him away gently.

"You're lucky you've got a woman who loves you because there's no way in hell you're gonna find someone else with lines like that." She sips her tea, turning bright eyes back to him.

"A woman who loves me, hmm?" he asks, all soft - sappy, even.

She rolls her eyes, but a blush creeps up to her cheeks, giving her away. She leans over into him, bracketing his waist with her arms. "I'll always love you, Castle. Even when we fight and say things we don't mean." She sighs, nuzzling his neck. "I'll always love you."

"I'm sorry, Kate."

"I know." She kisses his shoulder. "I'm sorry, too."

He slips a hand under the edge of her sweater, caressing the warm skin he finds there. She shivers and he expects her to swat him away, but she doesn't, only snuggles into him further.

"You ready to go home?"

"Can we just stay here for another few minutes?" She sighs sleepily. "Just the two of us?" she murmurs.

And he can't deny her because as she lays there in his arms, cramped in a small booth at their favorite diner, breathing softly against his chest, he falls in love with her a little more.

Love to hear from you.

Liv