Kate Beckett awoke in bed, with a warm blanket over her. Which was a million times better than the last two times she'd regained consciousness, only to find herself held captive by a sniper involved in the conspiracy which had cost her mother her life.

It wasn't her bed though. She looked around in confusion. Then the white sheets and oxygen tubing made a bit more sense. Hospital. She was in a hospital bed.

Now that she thought about it, she had vague memories of being in the back of an ambulance. And she has fuzzy recollections of someone shining a bright light in her eyes, and telling her to squeeze their hands and asking her who the President was.

She moved slightly, trying to take stock of her body. She had a headache, and it kind of hurt to move her eyes. Her right shoulder was pretty sore, and every part of her from her public bone to her throat burned. She remembered that big guy who worked for Lockwood kicking her repeatedly in the guts and wasn't surprised.

She tried to stretch out her arm, but it caught on something beneath the sheets. For a terrified moment, she remembered how her arms had been tied behind her back and panic flooded her. She yanked harder, and her hand came free. When she pulled it from under the covers, she saw the little IV drip line sitting in the back of her hand. It must have gotten caught on a thread in the blanket, she realised.

Then she caught sight of the chair beside her bed, and her heart melted.

Castle slumped in the chair which was way too small for him. His head was thrown back, his mouth open in sleep. Both of his hands reached out toward her bed.

Kate couldn't resist reaching out and grabbing the hand nearest her. She entwined their fingers and then hugged their joint hands into her chest.

Within moments, she had fallen back to sleep.

When she woke again, it was to bustle of a nurse in her room.

"How you feeling?" asked the nurse when she noticed Kate was awake.

Kate darted her tongue out to moisten her dry lips. "Thirsty," she managed. "Pain," she added.

"Well," she the nurse with a friendly smile. "We can fix that." She reached over and grabbed a cup off the nightstand and filled it with water. Then she added a straw and held the end to Kate's lips. She drunk the entire glass in one go.

"Again. Please."

The nurse chuckled and refilled the glass. Kate drunk it just as quickly.

"More?" the nurse offered.

"I'm ok for now."

The nurse refilled the cup again, but left it on the bedside table. "Good. Now I'll get you some more painkillers in half a minute. Just let me check your blood pressure first."

"Ok," Kate agreed.

"I'm going to have to borrow an arm off lover-boy for that," the nurse prompted.

Kate looked over and realised that Castle was still sleeping in the chair beside her, both of their hands wrapped in together. The old Kate Beckett would have protested and said that she and Castle were just friends. But the new Kate Beckett was sick of being afraid. If Castle wasn't her lover boy yet, she was damn going to make sure he was sometime soon.

She freed an arm from Castle, waking him in the process.

"Hi," she smiled, as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm.

"Hey," he said, his voice croaky and dry. Kate reached out and grabbed the cup of water the nurse had given her and handed it to him. He drunk it just as rapidly as she had.

The nurse huffed. "I need you to hold this arm still for a few seconds so I can check your blood pressure," she said.

"Sorry," Kate replied, although the nurse didn't really seem annoyed. She was looking at them fondly.

"110/70," said the nurse a moment later. "You can have your arm back now."

"Is that ok?" asked Castle.

"For a fit young woman like Katherine, that's perfect," said the nurse.

"Does that mean I can go home? And call me Kate."

"Well, Kate, going home is up to the doctor. They'll be in on rounds in an hour or two. But I don't see why not."

"Why am I here, anyway?"

"You had a concussion," said Castle. "And they wanted to give us both a shot of some antibiotics because of all the water in our lungs."

"Oh," her hand went up to her head, feeling where she'd been hit. It felt bumpy under her fingers.

"You got stiches," Castle added.

"I'll go get you those painkillers," said the nurse, leaving.

Kate reached out and found Castle's hand again. "Did you let everyone know what happened?"

"Yeah. Your dad and Alexis came in. I sent them home late last night. Or early this morning I guess. Mother wanted to come, but she stayed to look after the boys. I didn't want the boys to see you like this. Not so soon after…" he trailed off.

"Thanks," she said.

"You were pretty out of it last night. Concussions can make people pretty confused, you know, say crazy things."

She looked at him in confusion for a moment. He was avoiding eye contact, looking over at the IV pole in the corner of the bed.

He was giving her an out, she realised. He'd heard her say she loved him, and now he was giving her an excuse, so they could pretend it didn't mean anything, and go on the way things were before.

Only she was tired of the way things were before.

She didn't want an out.

Gently, she pulled their joint hands over toward her. Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

He looked over at her in surprise.

"Oh no," she said, locking eyes with him. Fear settle deep in her gut. And besides that, determination. "You can't use that excuse. I'm crazy in love with you, concussion or no."

For a moment she paused, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, terrified of his reaction. Then his entire face lit up.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," she promised, and then his lips were on hers, and how had she even been afraid of this, when all it felt like was natural and right?

"Hem, hem," came a polite cough, interrupting them. Kate broke away from Rick in shock, her eyes flying around the room. The nurse stood in the doorway, a small cup in her hand. "If you could spare me a minute of your time, I've got that pain tablet for you," she teased.

"Right," said Kate, flushing. She accepted the tablets and swallowed them with another glass of water.

"When I told you not to get shot, that didn't mean I was giving you permission to get tortured," said a voice from the doorway.

Kate barely had time to identify where the voice was coming from before she was surrounded by Martha's arms. She was suddenly glad Martha hadn't come in two minutes earlier and found Kate with her tongue down her son's throat.

"Sorry, Martha," said Kate.

"From now on, I absolutely forbid you from acquiring any injury worse than a paper cut. For at least the next year. I may look fabulous, but I'm not as young as I once was, and I'm not sure my heart can handle all of this."

Kate smiled up at the older woman as she broke the hug. "I'll do my best," she promised.

"I'm not sure that's going to be adequate, given the way trouble seems to find you."

Kate searched for the bed controller, wanting to sit up a bit more. Castle found it for her, and (after a series of false-starts) managed to elevate the bed head to a sitting position.

"I brought you in some clothes, in case they let you go today," Martha continued, holding up a small bag.

"Thank you," said Kate in relief. "A shower and some real clothes sounds amazing." She took the bag from Martha and stood up from the bed. She paused for a moment, as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

"Are you ok?" asked Castle in concern. "Maybe a shower is too much."

Kate waved off his concern, the dizziness almost passed. "I'm fine," she said. "Just been lying down too long." Her head cleared, and she walked over to the bathroom in the corner of the room. Halfway, she realised she was still attached to the IV line, so she had to go back and drag the IV pole over with her.

"Are you sure?" Castle asked. "Do you need me to come in with you?"

"To the shower?" Kate asked incredulously, glancing at Martha. Yeah, she wanted to move forward in their relationship. But the first time he saw her naked was not going to be when she felt (and probably looked) like she'd been run over by a subway train, with him propping her up in a tiny hospital bathroom and his mother just outside the door.

Fortunately, the nurse saved the day again, appearing at the door with some towels. "Right then, Kate," she said. "Let's try and wash that blood out of your hair so you don't scare the general populous when we let you out of here."

Kate nodded in relief, and the nurse unplugged the IV line from the drip in her hand, so they could leave the IV pole behind. Then she and the nurse disappeared into the tiny bathroom, leaving Martha and Castle in the hospital room.

"If you're going to see me naked, I better at least know your name," Kate said to the nurse.

"Hannah."

"Thank you, Hannah."

The nurse just waved off her thanks with a smile.

As Hannah helped her take off the hospital gown, Kate caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, still caked with dried blood in places. And her chest and abdomen bloomed with half a dozen dark bruises. Kate groaned.

Still, with Hannah's gentle assistance, she was able to get her hair cleaned. Well, she was able to sit on the chair in the shower while Hannah washed it, which was close enough. Once her hair was clean, she insisted on the nurse leaving to see to her other patients, and managed to finish washing, and then dried and dressed herself without assistance. It was a little sad that that felt like such a major accomplishment.

Combing her hair, with all the stiches and bruising, was a new experience in pain. But still, once she was sitting back in the hospital bed, in her own clothes, she felt almost human.

All she needed was a cup of coffee, and she might actually start to believe she could survive this.

Castle was over solicitous the whole way home, racing ahead to open every door for her, then rushing back to put his arm around her back and guide her as she walked. Kate allowed it only because she noted the amused look on Martha's face, watching the whole thing. As he fluffed the pillows on the couch and delicately arranged blankets so she wouldn't get too cold, she finally lost her patience.

"Castle! I'm fine."

"Are you sure you don't need another blanket?"

She shot him a dark look.

Castle pouted.

"Cut your losses, darling," Martha advised her son. "Kate's been very tolerant, but she's not made of glass."

Kate shot the older woman a grateful look.

For all her exasperation with Castle's hovering, Kate found herself worn out by mid-afternoon. Castle noticed, and got the boys to come and watch a movie with them in the lounge. He'd barely started The Lion King, and taken a seat on the end of the sofa, with Kate's feet in his lap, before she fell asleep. When she woke, the credits were rolling.

"Wow, I really zonked out," she commented.

"Yeah," Castle agreed. "You even missed the boys' loud rendition of 'Aching for some Bacon' in the third act."

Kate's strength improved after a good night's sleep, but Captain Montgomery still insisted she take the rest of the week as sick leave. By Friday she was bored and restless. So when Martha offered to watch the kids so Castle could take her out to dinner, Kate jumped at the chance.

It wasn't until she was getting ready, that she started to wonder just what this dinner was. In the days since she had confessed her feelings for the writer, he had been attentive and caring, but he hadn't made any romantic overtures. Mind you, neither had she. They hadn't even kissed since their first kiss at the hospital.

So, was this their first official date?

Just the thought sent butterflies bursting through her stomach. Kate tried to tell herself that it was ridiculous to be nervous about going out to dinner with someone she ate three meals a day with every day.

Still, she changed her outfit three times, and her hair twice. She worried about how much make-up to wear and brushed and flossed her teeth with extra care, even though logically, if there was going to be a kissing section to the evening, it was most likely going to be after dinner, so flossing her teeth now was hardly going to make a difference.

By the time she was ready to leave, she had built herself up into such a state of nervousness it was beginning to boarder on panic.

It will be fine, she told herself as they kissed the boys and headed out the front door. It's just dinner with Castle. What could go wrong?

It was horrible.

Once, in an embarrassing moment of self-pity and loneliness, twenty-two year old Kate Beckett had closed the mystery novel she had just finished reading and imagined what it would be like to go on a date with its author. To be wined and dined by Richard Castle. It would be decadent and frivolous, and a world away from the pain and anguish of her mother's murder and her father's alcoholism, and her own failure to fix any of it.

She'd supressed even the memory of that moment of weakness, especially after she met the author, and then slowly met the man behind the author's façade.

So, maybe it was a hangover from that younger Beckett's imagining, and maybe it was a product of Rick's playboy image, but from the moment they he'd asked her on this date (ok, maybe even in the year leading up to the moment he asked her on this date) she had a picture of what it would be like.

There would be a huge bouquet of her favourite flowers and then a fancy car – maybe even a limo – to a gorgeous, exclusive haunt of the rich and famous. The kind of place ordinary people made reservations for years in advance.

They'd eat tiny meals on enormous plates, ordered from menus that had no prices (because if have to ask, you can't afford Kaite-girl, as her father would have said) and washed down with the very finest champagne. He'd be charming, and witty, and her head would spin from the decadence and allure and maybe a little bit because of the champagne.

And when he escorted her home, like a gentleman, she'd kiss him with such intensity he'd lose all composure, and then she'd smile at him with a half turned-up smile and fire in her eyes and wish him goodnight.

That was how it was supposed to go.

So far, the whole night was entirely off script.

And incredibly awkward.

Martha was the one who suggested they go out, saying they needed a break after everything they'd just gone through. Castle had been reluctant to leave the boys, even with Martha, and Kate tried to remember it was because he worried about them, and not focus on the fact that it felt like he was only going out with her because his mother made him.

Castle had insisted on the location of dinner being a surprise. And Kate had certainly been surprised when they pulled up in a parking garage rather than a restaurant with a valet. Castle had jumped out of the car the moment they stopped, so she couldn't even shoot him a quizzical expression. She'd reached for her handbag by her feet in the car and then straightened up and opened her door.

Straight into Castle's shin.

"Mother f-ather," Castle shouted, grabbing his shin and hopping on one leg.

Apparently, he'd bolted from the car to be a gentleman and open her car door. And she'd managed to cause him bodily harm.

He'd had to rest for a moment before he could make the three block hobble to the restaurant. She'd spent the whole walk apologising.

At first, when he stopped outside the restaurant, she thought he just needed to rest his leg. She thought she'd done a good job at hiding her disappointment when she realised this was where they were headed for dinner, but Castle could read her like one of his books.

"We could go somewhere else, if you like," he suggested.

"No!" she said quickly. "This is perfect."

"You love Italian," he replied.

"I do," she agreed quickly.

The restaurant was in what was obviously a renovated factory. It was packed with people and the sounds of people talking and laughing, interspersed with shouting and crashes in the kitchen bounced off the concrete walls, amplifying the noise into a cacophony of sound.

They waited near the front of the room for several minutes before the maître d' appeared, giving them a once over with a bored expression. Kate took in his scraggly beard, large thick rimmed glasses and tight hipster jeans. "Yeah?" he drawled.

"Castle. Booking for two."

The other man grunted, glancing down at a scrawled list on the bench before him. "Ain't here," he said. "Sorry," he added, looking anything but.

"I called," Castle said, leaning to look at the list upside down. "Here," he pointed, spotting his name on the list.

The hipster waiter looked again, squinting. They he reached up and pulled off his glasses. "Oh yeah," he said as soon as the glasses were removed. "Can't see a thing in these."

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Our table?" Castle finally prompted after the maître d' did nothing but stare at them.

"Oh, it ain't ready yet."

Castle was starting to get annoyed. "Look, we had a booking for seven o'clock," he started.

"Chill out, Pop," the waiter broke in.

Castle looked like he might blow a gasket. Kate stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly to help him calm down.

She smiled pleasantly at the maître d'. "Perhaps you could tell us when it will be ready?" she asked.

"Won't be too long," he said. "Why don't you and the old man chill at the bar, and I'll come get you when it's ready?"

"Old man!" Castle spluttered. He was so mad words seem to be failing him.

Hipster finally seemed to realise his handling of the situation left a lot to be desired. Or he was just scared that Castle would have a stroke right in front of him.

"It's all good," he reassured them. "Here," he dug around in the pocket of his shirt for a moment, then pulled out a coupon, and, with the air of someone bestowing a great favour, handed the card to Castle. "There ya are. 10% off your first purchase at the bar."

Alarmed at the way Castle was still spluttering, Kate took the coupon from the waiter and tugged Castle over toward the bar in the corner of the restaurant.

"He – I – old man!" Castle rambled.

"Cheer up, Gramps, I'll buy you a drink," Kate offered. "Wine?"

"No! Wine is for old people. I want – one of those," Castle replied, pointing at an electric green cocktail in the hands of a 20-something at the bar.

Kate waded onto the queue around the bar, weaving around the drunken patrons easily and ordered their drinks. There wasn't any room to sit at the bar, so once Kate had battled her way through the crowd and back to Castle, they were forced to stand awkwardly in the only free space, which happened to be the three feet between the edge of the bar area and the edge of the restaurant section where the tables were.

She tried to make conversation, but Castle still seemed upset about the maître d's implication that he was old. Kate didn't really hold any hope of them ever getting a table. She figured they could finish their drinks and hopefully Castle would calm down, and they could head out and find somewhere quieter. So she was surprised – and a bit disappointed – when a tough looking chick came over to them as they were finishing their drinks.

"Castle?" asked the girl and then indicated they should follow her, without really waiting for an answer.

The waitress had short cropped hair and a least half a dozen piercings through her lip, nose and eyebrows. She led them to a small table at the back of the room, which she wiped down with a dirty rag that seemed to appear from thin air.

"Sorry about the wait. Crazy night. Here are your menus," she said, putting the menus down. Kate looked at her in surprise. She hadn't had a thing in her hand a second ago. Where had they come from? "And the drinks menu," she added, once again seeming to pluck the small book from nowhere. "I'll give you a minute."

She looked at Castle, to see what he made of their magical server, but the writer was opening menu, a stormy look still on his face.

Kate sighed, and tried to think of a topic to cheer him up, but nothing came to mind. She wanted tonight to be about them. Not about the kids, or either of their jobs. But she found that didn't leave a lot.

Frustrated, she retreated into her menu as Castle had.

"Want to get a couple of different pizzas and share?" she asked a moment later, looking at him over the top of her menu.

"Oh!" he said in surprise, looking down at his closed menu. "Yeah, I guess we could."

"Sorry, I didn't realise you'd already chosen," she apologised.

"No, really, it's fine. I can change," he gathered up his menu.

"No, that's ok, you have what you like. I'll just get…" she glanced wildly over the menu "the salmon."

"The salmon?" he asked. She nodded. "Which is served on a bed of steamed Brussel sprouts, your absolute most hated vegetable."

Her eyes darted back to the menu in horror. "Yes," she said cautiously. "But maybe you're right, I should get something more traditionally Italian, I suppose, since this is an Italian restaurant." She looked quickly over the rest of the selection.

"Ready to order?" said their waitress, suddenly reappearing.

"Er, yes," she said, still trying desperately to find something on the menu. They'd had pasta for dinner last night, and she really didn't want it again….

"We'll share some pizza," Castle said, smiling at the waitress. "One medium eggplant and mozzarella and one Tandoori chicken, please."

"Very good," said the waitress, disappearing with their menus.

"Thank you," said Kate when she was gone, she couldn't help but smile at the way he'd picked two of her favourite pizzas. He really did know her too well.

Castle smiled back, and for a moment Kate was sure they had turned the tide of this terrible date. A rocky start, but she was sure they'd soon be laughing about it.

The silence stretched just a bit too long, both of them still smiling at ear other across the table. Suddenly, her mouth felt sore and she realised they were both just staring. Desperately she tried to think of what to say.

She wondered how the boys were doing with Martha. But she couldn't lead with that, right? She didn't want to be one of those couples that had nothing in common but their kids.

Suddenly, she remembered a hilarious story Esposito had told her at work the other day. She opened her mouth, and then shut it abruptly. Of course, Castle had been standing right beside her when Esposito was telling it, so she could hardly use it as an icebreaker now.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they were too close for this to work. Take away the kids and the job, and what did they have left in common? A millionaire playboy writer and an ex-biker chick cop?

The table beside them suddenly burst into laughter. In fact, the whole restaurant was so full of noise and laughter, Kate could barely hear herself think. The jubilation of the other patrons only seemed to highlight the silence at theirs.

"This place – "

"I think – "

They both started at the same time, and stopped abruptly.

"Sorry," said Castle.

"No, you go ahead," said Kate.

"No, really, after you," Castle insisted.

"I was just going to say that this place is very popular," Kate finished lamely.

"Oh," said Castle. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Silence again.

"Have you been here before?" Kate ventured.

"No," said Castle.

Kate was going to ask why he had chosen it for tonight then, but couldn't think of a way to ask that didn't sound accusing.

"Oh," she said instead. Looking for a distraction, she reached out for her wine glass, only to realise it was empty when it was halfway to her lips. She put it back down on the table, self-consciously.

When their waitress appeared out of thin air again, Kate could have kissed her. "Another drink?" she offered.

Kate nodded.

"And for you, Sir?" the waitress asked, turning to Castle.

His face screwed up more at the 'sir'.

"No, thanks," he said, gesturing at his half-drunk cocktail forlornly.

The waitress disappeared and silence settled over the table again.

"What were you going to say? Before?" Kate asked.

"Hmm?" murmured Castle, looking up from his death glare at his bright green drink. "Oh, just that I think it might rain this weekend."

This is what we've come to, thought Kate glumly. Talk about the weather.

The problem was that they weren't quite 'friends' and weren't quite 'dating'. The usual safe first date fodder - what do you do? where did you grow up? what's your favourite movie? etc – was useless to two people who knew each other as well as they did. On the other hand, they couldn't just talk about their latest case like this was just another day at the office. The whole point of this date was that they were supposed to be more than that.

Even once their dinner arrived things were strained and over-polite. The restaurant grew increasingly loud as the bar overflowed and the tables around them were filled with partying hipsters. Kate found herself claiming she was too full for desert, just so the whole thing could end.

By the time they hit the street, Kate's ears were ringing from the sudden silence after all the noise.

She walked closer to Castle than usual, half hoping that he might take her hand. But he never took the hint, or didn't want to, and they walked in silence back to the car. At least he had stopped limping.

The ride up to the loft in the lift was possible some of the most awkwardly strained of Kate Beckett's life. It got to the point where she, a lifelong hater of Muzak, almost wished for some horrible artificial stains to fill the air and relieve some of the tension. She looked at the doors in front of her, but their mirrored surface just reflected failure back; she and Castle, separated by endless distance and two feet, avoiding eye-contact in the enclosed space.

The moment Castle unlocked the loft's front door, she made for the stairs.

"Did you have a nice night?" Alexis asked from the couch. Martha sat beside her, a black-and-white film playing on the screen. The two redheads' raised eyebrows and expectant faces were more than the detective could bear. She retreated up the stairs in a flash, muttering something about checking on the boys.

"What did you do?" she could hear Martha ask her son as she retreated up the stairs.

Kate looked in on the boys – both asleep – and then headed straight for her bedroom, closing the door and leaning against it. After a moment, she let herself slide down and sat on the floor, drawing her legs in and hugging them close. She squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears of disappointment threatened to fall.

She was being ridiculous. She was acting like a teenager, disappointed over a bad date to prom.

But it wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to awkward with Castle. It was never awkward with Castle. He pissed her off, and pulled her pigtails, and infuriated and attracted her in equal measure, at first. And then, slowly, he had inched so easily into her life, pushing her beyond her boundaries – both professionally and personally. As trite as it sounded, he had made her a better person.

Dating him was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to feel familiar and safe. It was supposed to feel like home.

And yet, it had been a complete disaster.

Kate didn't know how long she sat on the floor. The sounds of Alexis preparing for bed came and went, and the house was silent.

Enough, she thought. Enough self-pity. So, you and Castle aren't meant to be more than friends. It was good you worked it out quickly, instead of dragging this on, and having a messy break-up down the line. Now you can just go back to being friends.

But she didn't want to be Castle's friend. She didn't want to live with him, and raise the kids with him, and be in love with him, and watch him date other women and fall in love with them, and just be his friend.

She wished she could talk to her mom.

Did Johanna Beckett ever have a horrible first date? She wished she could go back in time, and talk to her Mom and share their very worst date stories, and laugh. She wished she could introduce her to Rick. They would have got along like a house on fire.

Unbidden, a memory came to her, of a moment just like this one, when she sat on her bedroom floor and felt just as she did now. She'd never been one of the drama club kids, but for some reason in middle school, she'd got it in her head to try out for a school play. She'd been bitterly disappointed when she didn't get a part, and her Mom had come home to find her crying. Kate had sobbed out the story, and Johanna had comforted her, but asked her if she was going to give up that easily.

Kate had been confused and a little angry at first, but she'd thought about what her Mom had said, and instead of crying about her missed chance, she'd signed up for set design for the play. She'd still be involved, and had a hell of a lot of fun, and made some new friends.

Was she going to give up that easily?

One bad date with Castle, and she was ready to throw in the towel? She knew that you couldn't force a relationship if it just wasn't there – Heaven knows Will had tried hard enough when they were together – but could she really live with herself if she gave up after one spectacularly bad date with Castle?

Determination straightened her spine. Although she hadn't actually been crying, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. She looked back at her reflection in the mirror with resolve in her eyes. It was time to go out there and get what she wanted.

The apartment was dark, but Kate was easily able to navigate her way to Rick's bedroom. She knocked firmly on the door, determination filling her.

"Yeah?" said Castle.

"It's me," she called.

The door opened a moment later, Castle standing before her, looking contrite and nervous.

Before she could lose her nerve, Kate flung herself at him. He jumped in surprise, but caught her with a hand around her waist. Before he could protest, Kate brought her lips down on his.

It was all the awkwardness of their date in physical form. Kate opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, only to be met with his closed mouth. He tried to shift and their noses bumped painfully.

Kate pulled away, heat flooding her face. She tried to take a step backward, avoiding eye contact, but Castle's arm around her waist tightened, pulling her into him once more. He tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eye.

His hand stoked her cheek softly, reverently. His eyes sparkled with awe when he looked at her. For a moment the look in his eyes make the whole horrible date fade away. For a moment there was just him and her, and the devotion that lit up his face.

"Kate," he whispered.

And this time when his lips met hers there were no clashing teeth and bumping noses. This was not the demanding passion that she'd imagined when she marched down the stairs, determined to make this work between them. This was tenderness and dedication. Her stomach dropped and her heart sped up, and it felt like her bones ached with the weight of it. It felt like a promise.

This time, when she pulled away, she didn't look away. They locked eyes for long moments, and Kate felt like they spoke volumes, yet she couldn't work out a single word.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

Castle stepped back from the door and she followed him into the room, taking a seat on his bed. She grabbed one of the throw pillows from the bed and pulled it into her stomach, hugging it tightly to her. A moment later, Castle joined her on the bed.

"That didn't go well," she started.

Castle looked surprised. He must have thought she was saying the kiss hadn't gone well, she realised.

"Dinner," she explained.

He nodded.

She tugged at the pillow, avoiding eye contact. "Why?" she ventured.

"I don't know," he admitted in defeat. "Maybe we just don't work."

"No. You're my best friend. You know everything about me and you don't run. You kiss me like that. We've got chemistry coming out the wazoo. It's not us. That was just a bad date. We're not giving up."

He leant forward, kissing her again, hard and demanding this time. The pillow she had been hugging to her stomach was trapped between them, forgotten. She broke away, breathless.

"Exactly," she said. "That's us. Solving murders with pithy remarks and witty banter? That's us. Whatever that was tonight, that wasn't us."

"That's my fault. I shouldn't have chosen that place."

"Why did you?"

"Because I'm old."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"Ok, I'm older. Than you."

"And you think that matters to me?"

"No, I guess not. I just wanted to pick some cool up-and-coming place, so you'd think I'm still with it."

"You're a New York Times bestselling author. You've very 'with it'," she promised. "If I wanted some young toy-boy I'd pick up one of the mannys at the kids' school."

"But you don't."

"No, I don't. I want you. Not someone older or younger or richer or taller or hotter."

"Hey!"

"I want you, Rick. Only you. Exactly how you are."

"Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head," she tried to warn him, but his lips were already on hers. He broke off, kissing along her jaw line, his teeth grazing her neck as he slid down, until his mouth was at the exact spot at the junction of her neck and collarbone that drove her wild.

"So, no more hipster bars?" she asked.

"No more," he agreed.

"Next time just take me to one of those swanky places where they have real linen napkins folded like origami cranes that the waiters put on your lap for you."

"Really?" asked Castle in surprise, pulling away.

"Are you saying I'm not worth it?" she joked. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. It was a joke, but it hit a little too close to the root of her insecurities.

"Oh, you're worth a lot more than that. I just usually – I mean – I didn't want you to think that you're just another page six girl."

Suddenly Kate got it. She remembered the fancy dinner she'd imagined having with Richard Castle, the author on the jacket of her favourite novel. She'd imagined an extravagant, expensive dinner because that's exactly what Richard Castle did. That was his calling card. And he hadn't wanted to take her where he'd taken other women.

"Thank you," she said, suddenly getting it.

His mouth found hers again, but this time it was all slow and languid. This wasn't demanding. This was a slow dance, a promise of consistency. When they broke away, Castle pulled her to sit next to him, leaning against the headboard.

"It was too much pressure, wasn't it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Maybe we just need to take this slowly."

"Kate, we took three years to go on our first date. The tectonic plates are moving quicker than us."

She laughed. "Ok, maybe not slowly, so much as…" she paused, trying to work out how to say what she was feeling.

"Not put so much pressure on ourselves," Castle supplied.

"Exactly!" she agreed. "Nothing is perfect, and we shouldn't beat ourselves up trying to make it that way."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I just really want this to work," she admitted.

"It will."

"Maybe we should just keep this between us for now. We're putting enough pressure on ourselves, without everyone else sticking their nose in." She groaned. "The guys at work are going to be insufferable."

"We'll still be able to work together, right?"

Kate paused, considering. "I don't know. I mean, normally partners would never be allowed to date. But…"

"I'm not a cop."

"Well, there is that. And this is hardly a conventional partnership, in any sense of the word. But I really don't know how the brass would react."

"So we keep it on the down-low, for now."

Kate bit her lip. "You don't mind?"

"As long as you and I know this is real, I'm happy. For now."

She curled into him, letting out a grateful sigh of relief.

He sat up suddenly. "Wait! Does this mean I should cancel the announcement in the Times? What about the skywriter?"

Kate grabbed this shoulder and pulled him back beside her. Maybe, thought Kate, they were going to be ok after all.