And the unfailing sense of being young

Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein

That hidden freshness, sung,

That certainty of time laid up in store

Love Songs in Age, Philip Larkin

time in store

"Where are we going?"

She watches the slow dilution of understanding across his eyes and then the lift to his brow as he makes the decision to misinterpret her.

On purpose, damn it Castle.

"To the bedroom." He gives her that lopsided grin and brushes his fingertips over her knuckles, starting to take her hand and then letting it go, walking away.

She watches him straighten the corner of the towel, a hitch in his breath. His hand trembles and he shoves it into his pocket, turns back to face her. "You coming?"

"That's not what I meant."

He comes back for her, their toes kissing. He's so close, the fortress of his body leaching heat into her, easing the crack in her bones. But even still. . .he does feel impenetrable sometimes. Right now.

"I- yeah. I know."

Castle slips his hands around, an undulating slide over the hills and valleys of her ribs and down, diving to reach her back pockets. A gentle squeeze that feels like possession, like he's saying mine.

That's never been up for discussion. Even that one moment of ephemeral desire, even when her eyes were fluttering shut and Vaughn leaning in, she never stopped wishing it were Castle instead.

Castle looking at her like she's special, intriguing, like she's remarkable. And maybe that's not fair, maybe it's stupid of her to expect him to want her all the time, but it stings.

"So answer the question."

"Kate-" He grits his teeth, that sharp line of tension lancing across his jaw again.

"Castle." She wants to say, please.

He tugs her against him and even with the pull of fear in her guts, the sluggish, thick terror, she flushes with want.

"Do you really want to do this now? It's late. We're tired."

His shoulders sag even as he says it, his hands in her pockets heavy enough that her pants gape at the back, cool air curling in wisps against her spine.

"Yes. The next time someone asks me if we're serious, I don't want to hesitate." She presses her mouth to the scar at his chin, tries to heal him with her apology.

He gives it back, rakes his teeth over the silvery line the triple killer left at her cheek, a breath that condenses, made liquid.

"You hesitated?"

Kate fists her hands in the material over his hips, tugs his shirt free from his pants so she can slide her palms over the cool and lovely skin of his waist. "Yeah."

"Why?"

She ducks her head a moment, long enough to swallow back her pride, and then she meets his eyes. "Well. Are we?"

"Yeah." He breathes it in supplication against her temple, moving to kiss the shell of her ear, a shard of her neck. "Yes, Kate. Do you doubt that?"

"Really?"

He huffs a sigh into the shadowy pool of her collar bone, pulls back to look at her before she can cradle the back of his head and keep him there. "Yes. I feel very seriously about you, Kate Beckett."

She grins at that, the set to his jaw that tells how desperately he believes it. Them. "But do you want. . .serious things?"

"What does that mean? Kate, you gotta help me out here. What are you asking?" He tucks her hair back behind her ear, cradling her cheek a moment.

Kate leans into his touch, circles his wrist with slender fingers. "I don't want us to become stale. I tried to spice things up and you brushed me off."

He opens his mouth to argue and she arches her neck to kiss him, equal parts desire and the need to shut him up.

"I know it's not fair of me to expect you to want me all the time. That's a double standard, I know that. I've said no to you before. But this isn't the first time. And it stings."

His other hand comes up, palms cradling her cheeks. "When?"

"That case with the haunted video. You wouldn't come home with me. That night had such potential. Could have been. . .intense." She smirks at him and he groans, their foreheads brushing.

"Yeah. That was a wasted opportunity. I just couldn't." She nods, starts to turn away and then he's got her again, keeping her close against his chest. "I don't want a last time with you."

Oh. Yeah, okay, so that makes sense. But still-

"But you wouldn't even kiss me after we caught the damn killer, Rick."

He grins, his eyes glazing over with memories of that night. The catch and desperate release of his breath over and over. Her mouth, cold and hot and cold again. She made it good for him. "Sure I did. With the ice cubes. We did more than just kiss."

"But before that. You basically told me you've wanted me for three years but you still wouldn't kiss me."

"Okay. I screwed up. But Kate. If you think I don't want you-" his palms skim low to cup her, bringing her closer in so their hips meet and she gasps, feels him hot and ready. "All the time, Kate."

"But you don't-"

He surges, bruising in his kiss, his tongue and teeth in a slow and somnolent conversion of her. She's finding faith with every glance of his mouth across hers, every sacred whimper he draws from her throat.

"Don't act on it? Only because you are worth so much more than sex. I don't want you to think that's all we have."

She bites her lip, swallows back the sharp tang of iron. "Sometimes I feel like it is, though."

"What do you want, Kate? What more do you want us to be?" There's nothing accusatory in it, a quietly hesitant question she draws in to herself, nurtures in the space behind her ribcage.

"I want you. All of you." Kate maps the crescent moon of his smile with the pads of her fingers, says it again. "I just want you."

"My mother thinks we should get married. She thinks that's true commitment." Castle sighs, his eyes shuttering closed.

And even as he seems to be disputing that, his thumb seeks out her third finger, smoothes over the bare patch of skin.

"What do you think?"

He kisses her again, resting a moment with their noses brushing, a palm curled around her shoulder. "I think I want you too. And if you want that, marriage, then we'll do that. But if not, we change some things."

Kate beams at him, something in her heart releasing. "Change what?"

"Our addresses."

She laughs, quirks an eyebrow at him. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Yes."

She expected a joke, a rebuttal, and his tender, desperate need knocks the breath right out of her.

"I'm not saying tomorrow. I'm not even saying definitely the loft. But I want you to come home to me every day. I want to cook you dinner in a frilly apron and meet you at the door and kiss away the tension. Every day."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

Castle's smile knocks against hers, their teeth clacking together in their kiss and she laughs more, clutches at him as he lifts her off her feet.

"I love you, Kate. I love you."

She runs her thumbs over his ears, the so-soft shells, and feels her silly, tender heart spill out across her face. So in love with him.

"Frilly, huh?"

Tumblr: katiehoughton

Twitter: seilleanmor