singular beginning

Martha sweeps inside the loft with a flourish and Kate glances up from the book cradled against her thighs, her bare toes curled over the edge of the couch cushion like holding on.

"Hello Katherine, darling." The older woman hums, coming over to card a gentle hand through Kate's hair. She settles in the armchair opposite, her legs folded at the knee so her patella rises up from the hem of her pencil skirt.

A timeless sort of grace to every movement that Kate finds reassuring. Martha isn't here a lot, often busy with friends. But she always comes back. She's always there when Kate needs her.

Which, admittedly, is not often. Even so, it helps. "Hi Martha. How was lunch?"

"Oh, delightful. It was wonderful to catch up, you know." Martha beams, slipping her heels off and flexing her arches. Kate hums in sympathy, feels the phantom tightness in her own feet. Sometimes Castle will massage them for her; work out the trembling tension until she turns liquid against him.

Every time, if she'd let him.

"I do." Beckett says, opening the dust cover and folding it around to mark her page, the book falling closed against her legs. She sets it aside, stretching out against the couch and dropping her head back. "Castle went to get stuff for dinner."

"Ah yes," Martha raises an eyebrow, unhooking the chunky bangle that circles the fragile line of her wrist to set it at the side table. Actually, that might be. . .yeah. That's the one that saved Castle's life. And his mother's, and all the rest of the hostages.

Stupid gratitude surges in her chest, for the hunk of metal and for her fiancé both, and Kate grits her teeth. The sharp edge of tension swells in her jaw and up, her ears thick with it too, but it helps.

Martha's still talking, watching her with that soft compassion she wears so often. "Richard called earlier and invited me to dinner."

Kate raises an eyebrow at that, glancing over to the window to watch the rose-gold of dusk threading through the sky, the slow dip of the sun making light run through the spaces in between the clouds like tributaries. Her gaze slips back to Martha and the older woman laughs, clasping her fingers.

"Honestly darling, I wasn't aware I had to be invited to have dinner with my own son and his lovely girlfriend."

It's right there, sweet and right where it settles behind her teeth. Not his girlfriend, his fiancée. But she won't tell his mother now. Not when he wants to cook for her specially, tell her together.

And offer her Kate's apartment.

"I think he's just excited to cook for us both." Kate grins, knotting the spill of her curls at her neck to try and combat the heat.

Castle's building is fully air-conditioned, of course, but she turned it off as soon as he left. Felt stupid using it just for herself. She had hoped the open windows would suffice, but the evening is muggy. Her skin sticks to the leather of the couch, the creases at her knees and elbows uncomfortably damp.

Martha must notice too; she's sliding her jacket off of her shoulders and shifting in the chair, her skin glistening a little. "Is the air conditioner out, darling?"

"No, I. . .didn't want to use it."

"Why ever not? It's practically sweltering." Martha hums, already standing up to head for the control panel. She shoots a look at Kate over her shoulder, a sharpness to it that sets discomfort churning in her stomach.

Kate catches her lip between her teeth, feeling suddenly useless where she sits at the couch. Standing up to join Martha, she feels the thick and cloying heat rolling off of the hardwood and has to swallow back a tide of shame. So stupid.

"I didn't want to waste it just on me."

Martha's hands curl around her shoulders, slender fingers pressing hard at Kate's bare skin. "Katherine, you belong here. This is your home just as it is Richard's, or mine, or Alexis'. I want you to be comfortable here, even when you're alone. Alright?"

"Okay. Yeah. I'm being an idiot." Kate laughs, dipping her head so as not to meet the interrogative blue of Martha's eyes.

The older woman drops her hands, stepping back and shaking her head. "Yes, you are. Let's agree not to tell Richard about this, if you can promise not to be so ridiculous in the future."

"Sure." Kate grins, wiping a palm against the back of her neck to try and cool off. She opens her mouth to say more, thank Martha for being so open with her, and stops at the swing of the door.

A grin breaks out across her face and she feels it crease her eyes, her cheeks already aching with it. She only saw him a couple hours ago; it is completely ridiculous to be so delighted at his appearance now.

But, yeah. . .she loves him.

"Mother, you're home already." Castle says, leaning in to kiss his mother's cheek. Kate takes the grocery bags from him and moves to the kitchen, allowing the two of them a moment alone.

She tries hard not to listen, stretching up on tiptoe to reach the higher cabinet. It makes her tank ride up, and the touch of Castle's fingers to the strip of bare skin startles her hard enough that she drops back onto flat feet.

His mouth sets at her ear, warm and delicious, and he murmurs to her. "Missed you. Mother said anything to you?"

"Just wondered why dinner now requires an invite." Kate turns in the cove of his arms and raises an eyebrow at him, arching up again to dust her mouth over his. "I told her it's just you being excited to cook."

"Good." He smirks, touching the tip of his tongue to her lower lip just enough to make her hips nudge into his own. "You wanna help?"

"What, can't hack it all by yourself?"

He huffs, biting at her lip in retaliation even as his hand comes up to settle between her shoulder blades. So achingly tender with her. "I'm trying to save you from my mother."

"Sure, Castle. Okay, I'll help."

Rick sets the last dish down and takes his seat at the head of the table, his hand falling to cradle Kate's. A carefully carved moment of adoration in the midst of his mother's exclamation.

"This looks wonderful, but really Richard? Is this some sort of last supper or something?"

He smirks, sliding his foot along the floor to get his toes against Kate's ankle. From the corner of his eye he watches the shockwave of it rattling through her, the hitch in her chest. "Of sorts."

"Castle." Kate hisses, shooting him a look that rolls in like an oncoming storm, has his spine erupting in gooseflesh.

Right, yeah. The future is not a joke to her.

Not to him either, but this is what he does. A defence mechanism, especially with his mother. He needs the humour. "Sorry. Uh, Mother. Kate and I have something to share."

Castle glances at his fiancée, can't help the soft curl of his mouth. And, thank God, she's smiling back. Her fingers lace through his so their knuckles clash and she turns her gaze back to his mother, the both of them waiting on him.

"I asked Kate to marry me, and she said yes."

"I did not say yes." Kate cuts in before his mother can do more than clasp her hands, a delighted peal of laughter rising up. "I said not yet."

Rick draws her hand up to his mouth and scatters kisses over her knuckles, the clattering almost-music like arrhythmia in his veins. "Actually, you said someday you want to marry me. Face it, Beckett. We're engaged."

She sighs at him, but there's a pleased flush to her cheeks and her thumb circles over the thud of his pulse at his wrist. "Okay, fine. We're engaged."

"I can't tell you how delighted I am." His mother says, rounding the table to draw Kate in for a hug. She turns back and smacks a kiss to Castle's cheek, a hand curled around each of their shoulders. "I always knew you'd get there."

"At least someone did." Kate murmurs, her mouth opening into that grin that shows all her teeth, the one that smacks of relief.

His mother goes back to her seat, taking a slow sip of her wine before she speaks again. "Katherine, dear. You are perfect for my son. You always have been."

Castle glances at her, this woman he loves more than he ever thought he could, and sees the pleased tilt to her mouth. She meets his eyes, flecked with the whole expanse of their lives together.

Kate leans in to kiss him, fleeting and perfect, and sits back to meet his mother's eyes. "He's perfect for me, too."

A/N: Thank you for your patience.

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