A/N: Castle belongs to Andrew Marlowe & ABC.

Special thanks to Katherine for the beta.

Prompt came up on Twitter: "Castle answers Kate's 'sleep with whoever you want' comment in the morgue honestly. Here's mine, people in that conversation! Now show me yours ;-)

"They intercepted it in transport. Apparently they had a court order," Lanie said as she led them into the morgue, handing the document to Kate.

"That's impossible," Castle exclaimed. "How could they get a court order that fast?"

"I don't know, maybe you should ask your girlfriend," bit out Beckett sarcastically, not even bothering to look up from page she was examining.

Lanie's eyebrows shot up, and she turned to Castle for clarification. "Girlfriend...?"

He ignored the M.E., turning to snap back at his partner. "Yes, okay? We slept together. It was a long time ago. What's the big deal?" he exploded.

"There is no big deal. Sleep with whoever you want. The more the merrier," Beckett snapped back.

His blood rushed in his ears, his usually easygoing nature pushed to the limit. She didn't see. All this time, and she still didn't see that there was no one else for him. That he was waiting. For her.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so angry. Perhaps the day she showed up after his book signing after months of silence. Perhaps the night they fought in her apartment, the night before Montgomery and the hangar.

The morgue, Lanie, everything dropped away, leaving only her and her stinging words, and he rounded on her, his anger making him brave.

Or stupid.

Either way, the honest response ripped out of his chest and flew out his mouth before he could gain control of his filter. Or his temper.

"You damn well know the only person I want to sleep with is you!"

He watched her reaction with dawning horror. Her mouth dropped open, and she stared up at him, wide eyed and vulnerable, her hair in wild disarray as if she had just woken up after a long night of wild and extremely satisfying sex.

They didn't do this. They didn't do honest, even when they were angry.

Not this honest.

Her eyes dropped, but not before he saw the pain shoot through them, causing her to shy away, to drown. His honesty hurt her, and the knowledge that his words were the cause left his heart in broken shards, slicing him open no matter which way he moved, and his anger dropped away as if it had never been.

He took a tentative half-step toward her, forcing himself into her space, not allowing her retreat.

"Kate," he whispered.

Slowly, unwillingly, she raised her eyes to meet his, the proverbial deer caught in headlights. Her chest heaved with short, shallow breaths, her entire posture poised in preparation of flight.

He reached up one hand as if to curl it around her cheek, to tuck a wayward strand behind her ear, but it was too much, too intimate, and she stiffened before he could make contact, leaving his hand hovering mid-air before dropping it back to his side with a sigh.

Wretched, heart in his throat making his voice huskier than ever, he pleaded, "I thought you knew, that you understood. I don't want her, or anyone else. I'm waiting for you, Kate. I love you. "

She was still staring at him, eyes sweeping his face for proof of the veracity of his words, and he dropped his gaze under the weight of her silence.

Perhaps he had been mistaken. He had clearly misunderstood all of it. Their subtext-laden conversation on the swings about walls and wanting a certain kind of relationship, smiles after hostage situations, over the shoulder invitations that didn't include tigers... he had been sure it all meant something, that she had meant something by it. That even though she didn't directly remember his confession as she bled out on the grass, that somehow subconsciously she knew it anyway.

He had never been able to hide what he felt. And she was a Detective, for crying out loud. Surely she knew?

A heaving sob clutched at his heart. Not out loud, thank God. The last thing he needed to do was cry in front of her in the morgue. But his heart sobbed within his chest, great heaves so tight that they forced all the air out of his lungs and left him unable to inhale.

The too-bright light of the morgue began to dim at the edges of his vision as his heart crumbled in the wake of this revelation. He might very well have succumbed there and then to a full scale panic attack had it not been for the sound of a throat clearing behind him.

Alexis.

Shit.

"I have those, uh … toxicology reports you wanted?" Alexis spoke to Lanie (Shit! Lanie had been standing two feet away this whole time!) but it was clear from her tone of voice that his daughter had witnessed the entire conversation.

His eyes slammed shut, the stain of humiliation creeping up his neck and making his cheeks glow, and he began praying fervently for portals in the floor, wild gunfire to break out and take him where he stood, a meteor shower localized enough to level the building in which they stood. Anything to get him away from here.

He could feel his daughter cross her arms and raise an eyebrow in her patented parent-glare, the one that told him she would be demanding details the moment they were alone, and even Lanie's gentle response to his daughter's interruption wasn't enough to break the tension.

Abruptly, he turned and marched out of the room, headed for the bank of elevators at the end of the corridor. To be honest, he had no idea where he was going, but flight instinct was kicking in and he just had to be somewhere where there was breathable air rather than tenuous awkwardness. He didn't witness the silent exchange in his wake – Kate's pleading, scared expression, Lanie's "go after him, girl, or so help me...!" glare, Alexis' smug grin at her boss as Kate scuttled away after her partner.

All he knew was that the damn elevator took too long to arrive, and Kate was breathlessly calling to him to wait before the doors ever had a chance to slide open. She was well and truly by his side as he stepped in and pressed the button for ground level. The doors slid shut, and they were left alone, together.

"Castle..." she began unsteadily as the box began to move, and he felt the burn of her gaze even as he stared resolutely ahead.

Somewhere within him, he found the words he needed. "It's okay, Kate. I get it. I read more into your feelings than is actually there. Just... give me a little time, and I'll get over it," he said brusquely, even as his heart rebelled.

There was no getting over her. There never would be.

She didn't need to know that, though.

The doors slid open, and he moved to stride out through the lobby, only her hands wrapped around his bicep, tugging to garner his attention and stopping him in his tracks. He turned to look down at her, and it was only then that he saw the glistening evidence of silent tears streaking her cheeks.

The stabbing pain in his heart flared up again. He was a cad for making her weep just because his expectations had been disappointed.

Loosening her grip on his arm, he slipped his hand to the small of her back and quietly guided her across the lobby and out onto the street, doing his best to shield her from any curious stares. The least he could do was get her somewhere private. Kate Beckett hated being a spectacle, and he loved her enough to put her needs first.

There would be plenty of time to weep into his pillow once he was home.

Once they were outside, he turned to her and held out his hand for her to shake, trying to smile bravely in spite of his heart bleeding out over the steps, dripping down to catch in the gutter and flow away to the sewer. "Thanks for everything, Beckett. It's been an honor."

She bypassed his hand, instead fisting her fingers around his lapel, her grip ironclad. She stepped in closer, all but pushing him up against one of the decorative pillars outside, giving them as much privacy as was immediately available. Her fingers burned through his clothes against his chest, and in spite of all they had been through, her scent surrounded him, filling him up, making him lightheaded.

"No," she growled, glaring up at him. "You don't get to say what you said and then run away. You don't get to do that."

His head bumped up against the concrete behind him as he stared down at her, baffled. "I was trying to let you off lightly, since you don't feel the same way," he explained desperately, miserably.

He half expected her to thank him, now that he had clarified. Instead, her face crumpled and she dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, her tears soaking through his shirt. Lifting his arms, he gathered her up, torturing himself by memorizing the feel of holding her safe, tucked into his chest. Her free hand wormed it's way up around his neck, clinging to him with every ounce off her strength, so fierce and beautiful even as she was breaking his heart.

"It's ok, Kate," he whispered. "I'll take some time off and get over this, and when I come back it'll be just like it used to be. Just give me a week or two, you'll see."

Sobs shook her slender frame.

He ran a hand up and down her spine, trying to soothe her, at a complete loss.

It took him a moment to realize that words were forming against his collar in between her sobs.

"You can't go, Castle. You can't leave me alone in this. I'm so damn close to being able to tell you I love you back, but I'm not brave enough to knock down the last of my wall yet. I need you to wait for me," she babbled.

Wait... what?

Reaching up, he smoothed her wild curls back behind her ears, cupping her cheeks with both hands and lifting her up so he could see her face clearly. Her eyes were puffy, her nose red, her skin pale and clammy, but the smile she gave him was beatific.

"What did you say?" he demanded, his stupid heart already hoping.

She laughed up at him, her breath hitching with a final sob, and the light in her eyes was clearer than he had ever seen it.

"I said I'm close to being able to say 'I love you' back to you. That wall is so close to coming down, and I need you to wait for me so you can be there when it does," she said, peeking up at him shyly from beneath her lashes.

He swooped in and pressed his lips against hers, tasting her tears, her joy, her promise, again and again. She kissed him back eagerly, fingers scraping up into his hair as she nibbled distractingly on his lower lip, scraping with her teeth and soothing with her tongue.

Breaking apart, he rested their foreheads together. "I'll wait as long as you need," he promised. She grinned, running her fingers lightly against his stubble.

"It won't be long, I promise," she replied, but he shook his head.

"This is it for me, but I don't want to start anything until you're sure. This, what you've given me this afternoon, is more than enough to keep me going until then."

Sighing contentedly, she settled herself back into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

A throat cleared from somewhere off to the side, and the partners broke apart, guilty.

Alexis stood just a few feet away, coat on, arms crossed against her chest, obviously ready to go home for the day. She raised her eyebrow at her father once again.

"Alexis! Hi! We were... um... how about we share a cab since it's the end of the day? Maybe Detective Beckett would like to come back to our place for dinner?" he babbled, trying to cover his embarrassment.

His daughter simply smirked, not even slightly fooled. Kate shook her head, though.

"Not this time, Castle. It's been a long day," she replied, and he nodded sadly, watching her move down the steps toward the street.

"Hey, Kate? Until tomorrow, right?" he called out desperately.

She threw him a shy grin that warmed his heart and curled his toes.

"Until tomorrow," she said.

Thoughts?