The loft was quiet.

She was sleeping now, restfully.

He'd watched and waited and held Beckett in their bed, till the adrenalin had worn off, the high had coursed away. He'd wiped away her tears, the ones she longer fought to hold back in front of him. Had held her hand and squeezed when she talked to her dad, in her pajamas, still in bed.

He'd held her till her breathing eased, till the lines of her brow smoothed over, till the tiredness of standing on the bomb all day in her heels, of fighting for her life, took over and hauled her into slumber. Then he'd stayed, caressing her, too wired himself to sleep, holding her, feeling her chest fall and rise under his palm, reassuring him that she was still here, that she hadn't gone anywhere, that he hadn't lost her. The afternoon had lengthened into shadows before he'd finally slipped out of the bed, wanting to have some food ready for when she woke up.

Stealth was the watchword as he moved around the kitchen, aiming for the simplest of meals, something wholesome and filling. He liked making food for her, making sure she ate, making sure she had the energy she needed to power her through her day. Making sure she didn't resort to take-out Chinese as often as she used to, out of a simple dislike of grocery shopping (and the unvoiced dislike of cooking for one). This was what he did for those he loved- he looked after them, fed them, made sure they were safe. Nourished. Nurtured. Cared for. This was what he needed to do now, to make sure she was okay in yet another fashion. He knew she wouldn't stand for him fussing over her, that she'd need some space to find her own equilibrium again upon waking. So he did this- some water heating in one pot for the pasta, he sliced the tomatoes and basil he needed for the sauce…whatever he could concentrate on to push the thought of how close they'd come to losing each other again to the back of his mind.

He heard faint noises from the bedroom by the time the pasta was ready to go in the pot, and the sound of the shower as the sauce came to the bubble. His mother was out of town this week, up in Albany on some kind of retreat or course or whatnot. While he appreciated her presence and her zest for life, this time her travel was a boon in that it gave them both the whole of the space in their home, the peace and quiet to recover as they both needed. And that's what they were forging together right now, a home, a partnership that went beyond their work together, beyond their initial burst lust and romance, into something longer-burning. Something settled. He wanted to push for more, to put a name on it, to codify it, but at the same time, he didn't want to rush her. Not with her past, her hesitancy in previous relationships, the rocky road that they'd had to each other, to find their way together. He didn't want to push too hard, push her away.

But he was thinking about their future together. Especially in the wake of days like this, when their lives hung by a thread, with so much still to come in front of them.

No regrets, she'd said.

He didn't know about that.

He heard her pad out of their room- yes, their room now- not very silently, but as he was intent on adding just the right amount of salt and oregano to the pan in front of him, he didn't turn around. She walked up right behind him and slid her arms around his torso, leaning against his back. He could smell her faintly floral shampoo, the clean scent of her freshly-showered skin as she pressed herself against him, squeezing out all the air in between them.

"Hey. What's cooking, Castle?"

He turned down the heat to a low simmer, and then moved across to the pasta, making sure it wasn't overcooking.

"Something simple, so I can feed you before you waste away into skin and bones."

He felt her shake against his back, the laughter rumbling out of her.

"You've got me spoiled with all these home cooked meals. Dangerous for a working cop like me to get used to this kind of luxury."

Satisfied the pasta is coming along nicely, but isn't quite done yet, he spins around in her arms and settles a quick kiss on her brow.

"Get used to it Detective."

One of her hands squeezed his back in reply, thankful and appreciative and loving all at once. He curled his fingers around her neck, cradled her body to his.

"How are you?"

He whispered the words into the dark, wavy tresses of hair, pulled into a simple bun as she ducked her head into his chest. He willed his warmth, his vitality, and energy to her, willed her to draw upon him for whatever she needed.

"I've had better days."

She looked up at him, eyes crinkled and green, full of life.

"But I'm better now. Thank you, again, Castle."

"Hush, enough."

She smiled softly, and then nodded, stepping away to pour them each a glass of wine as he put their simple meal together, adding just a touch of parmesan over the top.

They both arrived at the table at the same time, him with the dishes, and her with glasses, in sync as they almost always were.

There was no need for words, but she reached out for him with one hand as they began to eat, her fingers closing over his as they ate with the forks in their other hands. So many hours spent together, but unable to touch, unable to simply hold each other, have the comfort of contact- he wasn't surprised to see her reach for that blanket now. He brushed the broad pad of his thumb over her knuckles, her bare fingers. Too ba-

"Listen, Castle."

She interrupted his thoughts with a slight note of apology, and yet a hint of determination to her tone, as if this was something she needed to sit through. Something about how she spoke, the expression on her features made him sit up a little taller.

"I've been thinking about something, since last week."

Vaughn, and the bump in the road that had come between them briefly. He put his fork down, and she pressed her fingers against his in reassurance, that it was nothing bad. Certainly her eyes were open and warm, and a small, shy smile danced on her lips.

"And then the bomb today, when you stayed with me."

"Of course."

"I thought about how I'd come to count on you over the years, first as a friend and a partner, and then as more. How I've come to love you..."

He said nothing, sensing there was more to come, though a lump formed in his throat at how honest and open she was. Maybe the most he'd ever seen.

"…and last week I was waiting for you to say something, to make us, I don't know…official or something. But today made me realise that I shouldn't wait. That I can put on my big girl pants, and talk to you about taking the next step forward for myself."

"Kate."

She couldn't be about to-

"No wait, hear me out. Castle, you're amazing, and I'm so lucky that you're part of my life and I'm part of yours. And if there's anything I would have regretted if today hadn't gone as it did, it would have been the fact that we never got the chance to explore our future together."

She brought his close fist up to her mouth, brushing her lips over his knuckles. A glorious, joyous smile spread over face, and the happiness infected him in turn. Somewhere deep inside his chest, she made the sun burst forth. Happiness and warmth flowed through him, as only she could bring forth.

"Richard Edgar Alexander Rodgers Castle, will you marry me?"

Even though his writer's mind had sort of seen it coming, he still gaped in response. Laughter bubbled out of her at his speechlessness, and he couldn't really blame her for it as he tried to muster his thoughts.

"Now I know I don't have a ring or anything…"

"Wait, wait! Hold that thought."

His chair scraped back against the floor as he stood up to quickly, and took off to his office at almost a sprint. Through the wall of book, he could watch her peer at him, curious as to what he was doing.

When he found the small blue velvet box in the bottom drawer, he hid it in the palm of his hand before he walked back out to the dining table.

"You know Castle, I'm still waiting for an answer."

"Well, you mysterious, delightful, bewitching woman…"

He got down on one knee, proffering her the ring, the diamond shining the soft light of the loft.

"…Katherine Houghton Beckett, I accept."

This time it was her turn to be shocked into speechlessness, her eyes locked on the ring in front of her as he got up and took it out of the box.

"When…I mean, how? I mean…"

"I got it a little while back. I was just waiting for the right time, and place. But Kate, you had a big ordeal today, I don't want you to rush into anything. I mean we don't have to if-"

She gave him The Look, nose slightly wrinkled (and impossibly cuter for it), that ever-ready mixture of exasperation and a smile that he associated with the expression appearing on her features.

"Oh Castle, hush. Our whole history is built on these moments. You told me you loved when I got shot, I finally got it through my thick head that I needed you when I was hanging off a building, I just told you for the first time I loved you when I was standing on a bomb. You want to wait for the next near death experience?"

"Well when you put it like that…"

He held her hand in his, her small, strong fingers spread as he positioned the ring against the correct one. When he glanced up, he found her eyes on his, brilliant and vivid and vital and green, his own happiness reflected in them.

"I can't imagine my life without you, Kate. That's why I came back to the room today. The easy things, the difficult things, and everything in between. I want to do them with you."

The ring slid over her last knuckle and onto the finger properly.

In answer, she simply wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss against her. Their lips pressed together, and then he found her tongue insistently demanding entry to his mouth, and getting it. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him steady, while his spanned her hips and roamed her back, glorying in the velvet of her skin, the heady scent of her. Taste, sight, hearing. All the senses, filled with her.

Just as it should be.

When they parted (it could have been second, minutes or hours, really), he was breathless and slightly dizzy. Her cheeks were flushed and deliciously pink, her hair tousled and askew.

She looked gorgeous.

"I love you."

He said the words simply, and without any reason or prompting. No bomb or gun battle or threat hanging over them.

It felt good.

"I love you too, babe."

"Babe?"

She nodded once, firmly.

"Babe. Definitely babe."

He tossed it around in his mind. His fiancée calling him 'babe'. He could get used to that.

"I like it."

He stepped in close, sliding his hands around her back and under that firm and delicious butt, and then lifted her up into the air before she quite realised what was happening. When she was eye level with him, her feet in the air, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Now, let's go celebrate properly in the bedroom before we call everyone and tell them the good news."

A/N: From a prompt about an AU where Beckett proposed at the end of 'Still'. I always liked the idea of Beckett proposing, and have prompted it or written it into my own fics a few times. This fic follows the airing order (TSATQ then 'Still') as canon. Please let me know your thoughts (especially on Beckett and her dialogue/characterisation), as always. Thank you.