Erm, I suppose this could be spoilery. Except, you wouldn't know it unless...well, unless you've read the spoilers. So. Yeah.

"That's the fifth shirt you've put on, Richard," his mother observes as he steps into the kitchen, buttoning the cuffs of his black dress shirt.

"It's only the fourth," he defends, shooting her a look.

She emits a noise of disapproval. "Darling, you and Beckett have been together for weeks now, for all intents and purposes." She pauses. "Or four years, if we're counting foreplay."

"It's our first date, you know? I just want it to go well."

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Let your feelings for each other speak for themselves."

He opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He slides his clammy hands across the denim of his jeans, forcing a small, nervous smile.

"Oh, Richard," Martha says softly, leaning up to press his cheeks together with her palms. "Stop over thinking this and try to enjoy your evening, hmm?" He nods, lets out a shaky breath. She's right, of course; he needs to relax. It's Kate.

He removes her hands from his face and slips to the door to greet the most beautiful woman he's ever met.

Kate smiles, soft and light, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Hey."

His breath hitches in his throat, so happy to see her even though they'd only parted ways a few hours earlier. "Hey," he parrots quietly. "You look great," he admires, running his eyes over her dark jeans, purple cashmere sweater, and leather jacket.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and takes a step closer to him, circles her hands around his neck. "Not so bad yourself, handsome," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as he settles his hands on her waist, the tips of his fingers slipping under the soft leather.

"Doesn't the kiss come at the end of the date?" he teases. "Should I be worried about my virtue here?"

The corners of her mouth twitch, eyes sparkling in amusement. "Pretty sure I took your 'virtue' weeks ago, Castle," she says wryly.

"And I enjoyed every second of it."

She rolls her eyes, slipping her hand in his. "You ready to get this show on the road?"

He grabs a jacket from the hook by the door. "You gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Nope."

He pouts, shutting the door behind them. "Not even a hint?"

She raises an eyebrow. Really? "Remember whose idea this was."

How could he forget?

She lay with her head on his chest a couple of nights ago, wide awake at 3 a.m., as he traced circles along the curve of her back. She pressed a kiss to his chest, her hair glowing in the moonlight that fell through the window.

"You realize we have yet to go on a real date?" she asked, propping her head on her elbow.

"Is that an invitation?"

He threaded his fingers through her hair as she edged closer, nipping softly at his mouth. "Will you go out with me, Castle?"

"Will you bring me flowers?"

She chuckled, deep and throaty. "Not a chance."

"All right, you've convinced me." He paused. "But I don't put out on the first date."

She tugged on his ear with her teeth, her laugh rumbling against his skin. "Just before the first date, then?"

"Exactly."

She licked the shell of his ear, sending a shiver through his body. "I'll pick you up at seven," she rasped.

"Can I at least drive? We can take the Ferrari," he suggests enticingly as they step out into the warm New York air.

She shrugs. "I mean, if you don't want to take my Softtail."

He swallows hard. "You—you brought your motorcycle?" he stammers, images flooding his head of leather and denim-clad thighs straddling the bike.

She gestures to the parked motorcycle several yards away. "But if you don't want to take it…" she trails off, switching the direction of her feet towards the parking garage where his Ferrari sits.

He grabs her arm, tugging her back. "We are so taking the Softtail," he growls, his fingers clenching the dark leather.

She grins, her eyes teasing and seductive. "Whatever you say."

He frowns when she hands him a helmet.

"For God's sake, Castle. Your hair will be fine." She rolls her eyes, reads him like a book. He mutters under his breath, slipping the helmet over his head grudgingly.

He watches, mesmerized, as she tosses her hair, securing the helmet on her head. She lifts the kickstand, swings her leg over the seat, gripping the handlebars firmly.

Oh, yeah, he's already a goner.

"I didn't account for time spent staring, Castle," she admonishes.

He clears his throat. "Right." He settles down behind her, awkward and unsure. She reaches back and grabs his hands, slides them smoothly around her waist. He straightens his back and leans into her, his chest pressed against her spine. He smiles to himself as he feels her breath shudder slightly at the contact.

He lets his hand travel south to scrape over her thigh, squeezing it gently. She slips her fingers through his, clutching his hand in a warning, and slides it back to her waist. He laughs.

God, he loves her.

"You brought me to an arcade?" he asks incredulously, running a hand through his helmet hair as he dismounts.

She winces, biting her bottom lip. "Too much?"

"Are you kidding? Best girlfriend ever." The words are out of his mouth before he thinks about them. He closes his eyes at his own stupidity because God, it took them four years to get to this point and he's screwed it up with one damn word and—

"The feeling's mutual, Castle," she says softly, her easy words lightening the strain on his heart. He slides his eyes open to find her smiling, her cheeks stained in a light blush. He grins back as she leans in to brush his cheek with her lips.

"Come on," she says, slipping an arm around his waist. He presses a light kiss to her hair (Her touch is addicting and now that they've reached this stage, he seizes every opportunity.) and slides his arm around her shoulders. He's a few inches taller tonight, as she opted for flats instead of heels. He loves her presence in her power shoes, but relishes the way she fits into his body, under his chin, when she forgoes them.

"You're going down, Beckett," he challenges, grasping the air hockey mallet tightly in his hand as he wipes the sweat from his brow. He leans over the table, loosening his shoulders.

She snorts. "In your dreams, Castle." She sets the mallet down onto the table and wraps her hair in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, all business. She shrugs out of her jacket and lays it carefully on the floor.

She grabs the puck from the chamber, places it in the center. "Get ready to weep."

"Tears of joy," he throws back, eyes narrowing. They hit the puck at the same time, but it knocks into Castle's corner. He sends it sharply in her direction, but she blocks it effortlessly. She traps the puck under her mallet, steadying it so she can sail it his way. It bounces off the side and slides quickly into the goal.

She grins triumphantly. "You were saying?"

"Beginner's luck." He waves her off, scoffing.

"Do I have to let you win now? I'm not sure your ego can handle this," she says wryly. He glares at her, forcefully knocking the puck down the table to clatter into the goal, catching her off guard.

He smirks. "You were saying?"

As it turns out, she's some kind of air hockey whiz and beats the pants off him 8-4. She also puts his high ski ball score to shame and sinks a good five more baskets than him in a free throw challenge.

The only thing he manages to beat her at is shooting simulation, which he finds incredibly amusing.

Ahem. She does not.

Still, the tickets overflow in her pockets and his fit neatly into one.

"Don't pout. I'll get you something pretty." They grab a couple sodas and a few slices of pizza, the grease soaking through the paper plates onto their palms, and make their way to an almost-nauseatingly bright booth in the corner by the ball pit.

Best. Date. Ever.

He huffs a laugh. "A pity gift? I don't think so." He moves to settle down next to her, but she nudges him, kicking him over to the other side. "I lose and you won't even let me cop a feel? Harsh, Beckett."

She laughs, full and rich, and he can't help but smile.

"Gotta save something for later," she teases. He chokes on his soda, spluttering through a cough. She pauses thoughtfully, snapping her fingers. "Oh, wait. That's right. You don't put out on the first date. Shame." She nonchalantly tears into her pizza, eyes glinting in amusement.

He clears his throat, shaking his head fiercely. "Uh, you know. Rules are made to be broken."

"Is that so?" she asks him, slipping a bare foot under the leg of his jeans, brushing his calf.

"Y-y-yeah," he stutters, dropping his pizza to his plate. He groans as her foot continues to travel upward. "Please tell me the next phase of our date includes a bed."

She hums. "I was thinking a desk, but I suppose a bed will work."

He groans again, closing his eyes against her words. "Oh, God, you are such a tease."

She grins, leaning over to smack a greasy kiss against his lips. "Don't you ever forget it, stud."

"I had a really nice time tonight," he plays, resting his head against his door to flutter his eyelashes. She rolls her eyes, slaps his chest lightly. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulls her in. He cups her cheek with his hand, brushes his knuckles against the curve of her jaw.

"Seriously. I couldn't have asked for a better night from a more perfect woman," he says softly. She ducks her head in a blush as his thumb traipses over her lips. She lifts her hand to grasp his wrist, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm.

"Have you always been this sentimental?" she jokes.

"Kate."

She lets out a slow, shaky breath. "I still haven't told you how head over heels in love with you I am, have I?" she whispers.

He sucks in a breath. "I assumed," he offers weakly, giving her a half-smile.

"You shouldn't have to assume, Rick," she murmurs, nuzzling her face into his neck. She kisses him there, just below his ear, before pulling away to meet his gaze. Her eyes shine a little, as if she might be holding back tears. "I love you so much, Castle," she rasps. "And I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to tell you."

He pulls her into his arms, closing his eyes as he lets out a small, relieved sigh. "You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that," he admits.

"Thank you for giving me the time to work it out on my own."

"I'd do anything for you, Kate."

"And I, you," she promises, skimming her fingers lazily against his hip. "You're very warm," she observes, pressing the pads of her fingers against him.

"A gorgeous woman just told me she loves me, what do you expect?"

"Oh." She slides her hand up to the front of his shirt, fiddles dangerously with the buttons. "So it has nothing to do with the way I'm pressed against you right now?" she asks innocently, shifting so that she's almost straddling his thigh.

He groans. "Is it time for Phase II yet?"

She slips a button from his shirt, tossing her hair over her shoulder seductively. She leans into his neck, flicks her tongue against it, just below his jaw. "Waiting for you to catch up."

Oh, God.

Best. Date. Ever.

Finis.

Thoughts?

Olivia