8

Of course he falls in love first.

The man gets some kind of twisted joy out of competition. But the same goes for her.

But here they are. They just saved New York from a dirty bomb and they're laughing and crying and he's looking at her with that look in his eyes, the special one that's only reserved for her. And in that moment she knows, figures it all out. They're both breathing and still holding hands and they're in love with each other and son of a bitch, she's never been so scared in her life.

And he knows she knows. He shrugs and smiles one of his stupid, self-deprecating smiles, lifting his hands as if to say that he couldn't help it.

He could have helped it. He should have prevented it. She has, so why couldn't he?

Of the two of them, he's always been the more captivating one, the one with the smile that could stop half the female population in Manhattan in their tracks, and she's still managed to resist and dammit, why does he always get to go first?

It was during their first month together that she notices. Most cops avoid the coffee machine in the precinct like the plague because the house brew has once been described by one particularly wordy cop as "monkey piss diluted battery acid." So she, along with some others who doesn't have an iron stomach, usually picks up their daily coffee in a small bistro around the corner.

She never expected him to pick up on it. It was near the beginning of their makeshift partnership when she still thought of him as an annoying nine year old stuck in a man's body. She was also pretty sure that nine years old was pretty generous. More like five on a bad day.

They're poring over a case one night and the precinct is empty except for the two of them. When he slips out for a couple minutes, she didn't notice. He returned, wearing that goofy smile like it wasn't nearing midnight and they weren't spending their Friday night on a case, and slipped a cup of coffee into her hands. She knocked it back without a second thought.

It was only mid swallow that she noticed that it's her usual order, something she's never told him. "How did you know what I usually get?"

He shrugged, still smiling. "The lady at the shop seems to know you. I just told her you wanted your usual."

It was slightly unnerving since she had never even mentioned the bistro to him but she appreciated it all the same. "Thanks, Castle."

She didn't mention how much that had made an impression on her or how that had been the first time she'd cracked a smile all day.

"No problem." He grabbed the case file again and began to flip through it. "So what do you think of the brother? He has motive."

They went over the case until she could barely keep her eyes open and he was in danger of drooling on her desk. They called it quits around one in the morning and went home. When she returned the next morning, she noticed a fresh cup of coffee sitting on her desk and bit back a smile.

She was wary after that, suspicious of her reactions, wondering at every turn if he was going to turn out to be a problem for her, if he was going to be able to charm his way through this partnership.

So she did what any good military general would do. Castle managed to find a chink in her wall, so she doubled its thickness, increased the number of soldiers, and hoped like hell he would stay away.

She drops by that night, gripping a bottle of wine in her hands as tightly as she would hold her Glock. She's not good as this kind of stuff. Love, relationships, trust, whatever. But she knocks on the door anyway because they have to figure this out. She wants to figure this out.

Alexis opens the door. "Hey, Kate. Nice to see you again."

She smiles at the redhead gratefully. "Thanks. Your dad here?"

"Yeah, he's in his study. You want glasses for that?" Alexis motions to the wine in her hands.

Kate blushes slightly. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Alexis brings two glasses to her then points down the hall, smiling as if she knows something's going on between her dad and her but is too polite to say anything. Kate walks down the hall, the heels of her boots making soft click noises, and stands in front of the door to his study. Taking a deep breath, she walks in.

He's sitting on his chair, typing furiously, but ceases when he sees her. "Hey."

"Hey."

"That for us?" He gestures to the wine bottle and glasses in her hands.

"Figured we should celebrate. We saved New York, Castle." She pours them a glass each. With a clink, they take a sip.

She sits down on his couch and he joins her, not too close but enough for her to feel the heat from his leg. She waits because they both know she's not here to celebrate.

He's thrown everything off course and she's just starting to get her life back on track again – she's even having dinner with her dad every week – and everything's good and nice and normal so why now?

But he doesn't say anything, just stares at her calmly like he's been waiting for her. He finally cracks when she lifts an eyebrow. "What?"

"'What?' That's all you have to say?"

"Fine, I'll go. This wine tastes like crap."

"That's because I got it at a gas station." She grins, an upward quirk of her lips. "Your turn."

He stares at her, serious, hesitant, and it's like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "Why are you here?"

She's quiet for a minute. "I wanted to talk."

"About?"

She doesn't answer.

"What do you want me to say, Kate?" he asks quietly and damn his writer mind for stumping her like that.

She's having trouble concentrating with him so close so she decides to focus on the carpet instead, not quite brave enough to meets his stare. "What are we doing, Castle?"

He shrugs. "Not lying anymore."

She exhales. "That's what you're calling this?"

Shrugging again – she's tempted to punch him if he does that again – he replies slowly, "What do you want this to be?"

If this is some version of reverse psychology, she has to say that it's working because she's struggling with her answers and he seems to be as cool and composed as ever. God, she can't even remember the last time she was so frustrated over a guy.

Then the words slip out of her mouth, quiet and resigned. "You don't love me."

"You don't know that," he whispers back.

"I know because I don't want you to," she says back, ignoring the sob that causes a hitch in her voice.

"You don't want me to?" he says, looking so disbelieving and heartbroken she's tempted to break down right there.

"There's a reason why colleagues can't date each other. I've seen how boyfriend and partner and friend get messy and pretty soon, someone's going to end up hurt or dead and I don't think I could even breathe if you left me. So, no. This won't work."

The impact of the words she just said is just starting to hit him and she can't bear to see that broken look in his eyes again so she walks out of the room. But she leaves the door open.

The next time she realized the change is when she took a bullet for him.

They had been partners for a bit more than a year now and she was finally letting him in, letting him peel back layer after layer until the smiles she throws at him are genuine and he can read her better than anyone else.

It was supposed to be simple but, then again, that's how all complications start.

The killer turned out to be a sixteen year old kid who had a penchant for sawed-off handguns. They had barely gotten out of the car when the bullets started flying.

"Holy -" Castle was cut off when a bullet flew inches past his ear and another buried itself by her feet. They hid behind an open car door but it wasn't wide enough to hide both of them. Half of Castle's body was exposed.

She fumbled for the radio, trying desperately to call for backup, but the radio is jammed and the windshield is cracked and they're pretty much screwed.

That's when she realized how much of a liability he has become because instead of calling one of the boys on her cellphone, she found herself jumping in front of a bullet meant for him, shielding him with her body – and her Kevlar because she's a cop, not stupid – so that the slug hits her.

She must really have it bad for him because she would make the same decision again without a second thought.

"Never do that again," he growled in her ear but god, there was a stupid smile on her face because he's okay.

"You would've done the same for me," she replied because it's true and they both know it.

A few days later, they meet up at the release of his newest book, Frozen Heat.

It's her day off, something she can only stomach in small doses, so when he calls and invites her to the party, she accepts instantly.

They both pretend that the conversation in his study never happened.

She's wearing a cocktail dress, all black lace and bare skin, the one that struck him dumb when he first saw it. Flashes go off the minute she steps out of the car as whispers of "That's Richard Castle's muse!" begin floating around.

Not anymore, she thinks. Not after she broke his heart.

The party is decked out in full-on Castle gear. Posters of the man cover every available surface along with a giant cut-out of him that she's sure is only there to act as an ego boost. Then he walks in, looking charming and disconcertingly handsome as ever. The crowd roars – most of them female – and he flashes a thousand-watt grin.

Then they have to take pictures. Together. Because apparently the world is fascinated with the idea of him and his muse. So they stand together, both of them stiff and not quite looking at the other, until Gina forces him to put an arm around her and for her to place a hand on his chest.

"There's something going on with you guys and I really don't want to know but can you guys at least pretend to be enjoying this?" Gina rolls her eyes and flashes Castle a 'try me' look.

So they do. Thus begins a strange show of game of one-upmanship. Castle spreads a hand on the small of her back. She stamps a kiss on his cheek. He leans closer and his breath caresses the shell of her ear. She trails her lips down his neck and feels his pulse beat against her breath.

The cameras are eating this up and if the boys or Lanie ever finds out about this, she'll shoot them, unity be damned. When the flashes stop, Castle jumps back like he's been burned.

Then Gina drags him away to introduce him to other people and she's left standing there watching his retreating back. He doesn't spare her a glance and she doesn't expect him to. So she stands there, pretending that the sight of him walking away from her doesn't feel like a knife wound.

She knew he felt the same way about her when they once went undercover. They played a married couple, newlyweds, two people brimming with love, and it came far easier than it should have. Far easier than she expected.

They shared a hotel bed, too, because what if they were being watched? So she slept beside him and when she turned to get into a more comfortable position, she found herself staring right into his eyes.

"Night, Castle." She whispered.

"Night. Until tomorrow." His eyes were indecipherable, a constant mix of emotions that normally would have fascinated her but that day, she just looked away and turned off the light.

She closed her eyes but she wasn't tired, not yet. Too much adrenaline from the case, too much pent up energy. Tossing and turning, it wasn't until her fifth pillow whack that Castle finally speaks up.

"Keep that up and you'll wear a hole in the mattress."

"Shut up," she snapped.

He chuckled, a deep rumble from his chest, making her narrow her eyes. He motioned for her to come closer to him. "Come here."

"Why?"

"Because you've got a giant pole up your ass and this is the only G-rated way I can think of to make you relax," he said matter-of-factly. Damn cheeky writer.

She wasn't that tense but she scooted over until her body was tucked up besides his. She hesitantly buried her head in his chest and for the first time all day, she felt warm. She closes her eyes and focuses on the steady thrumming of his heartbeat.

And that's when she knew, recognized the tender, intense look in his eyes, and knew with absolute certainty her guess was correct. Had been correct since the very beginning. But he didn't do anything, not a single thing except give her one of his goofy smiles and continue to hold her like she's precious. God, she could get used to this.

They finished their undercover op the next day and she was almost sorry to go.

Almost.

She's just about to leave the party when he suddenly materializes by her side.

"Are you leaving?"

She thinks about pulling that reverse psychology crap on him and replying with 'Do you want me to stay?' but opts out at the last minute. Screw him. "Yeah, I'm working tomorrow. Figured I'd turn in early."

He nods. "Oh, okay."

She hesitates, just for a minute. Then, shrugging, she turns around and heads for the exit. She makes it five steps before Castle speaks up.

"You left before I could say anything."

She whirls around. "What?"

"That night. You came over with your shitty wine and gave me this whole lecture on why we wouldn't work." He steps closer, eye boring into hers. "Well, I've never had my say."

"Your say?" she repeats.

"Yes."

"What do you mean, 'your say'?" God, she sounds like a parrot.

"I have stuff to tell you, too."

"Now?" They're in the middle of the dance floor and there are people streaming past them, stopping occasionally to get a glimpse of him.

"No time like the present," he says with a crooked smile and drags her out the door and into the cool night air. They duck into his limo and he shuts the door. There's no driver so it's just them, sitting in the backseat like two teenagers going to prom.

"So," Castle begins. "I'm only going to say this once, just because you'll probably shoot me if I keep bringing it up, but I need to say it. Just this once, then I'll be done."

"Say what?" She's nervous. A part of her can't believe he's actually doing this.

He takes a deep breath "To say that I love you, Kate. Always have. But we're friends and partners first and I don't want to lose that. Partnering up with you is one of the best things I've ever done in my life. So if you tell me no, that it won't work, then that will be the end of it. I won't bring it up again."

She's floored. So much so that she almost misses the last few words that slips out of his mouth.

"But I think it could work."

Holy shit.

She stares at her hands. The fact that she's even entertaining this idea freaks her out because she actually is considering this. Thinking about the consequences. Debating the pros and cons of what it all means. And if he could be privy to her thoughts right now, he would tell her to hell it with it all and just make the leap already.

But she's afraid and terrified and downright cowardly – what if this doesn't work, what if it spills over into their casework, what if they get split up, what if.

"What are you saying, Castle?" Her words carry an edge.

"You know exactly what I'm saying."

"I – I – How can you even—" A pause. And suddenly, she's angry. White hot, boiling angry that he can just dump this on her and expect her to make a decision now. "I mean, — what the hell, Rick – I don't know how to do this!" she finally yells, exasperated.

"You think I do?" he retorts, then softens his voice. "Look, it's not going to be easy. Hell, we'll probably mess it up right off the start since most of my relationships only last a night." He exhales and says gently, "But I don't want that with you. I just want you."

It takes a long time for her to answer.

Then calmly, deliberately, she meets his gaze and asks in a small voice, looking so lost all of a sudden, so torn between hope and resignation. "You really think this could work?"

"I know it could," he says, his voice steady.

Then she looks, really looks at him, sees the love shining on his face, and it's like there's a shift inside her. It's like everything's falling into place, the final piece of the puzzle, the final note of a symphony.

Then slowly, soft as a whisper and just a gentle, she leans in and kisses him. It's gentle, a soft rub of her lips almost as if she's testing the theory.

Finally, she leans back. "Real?"

He nods. "Real."

"Good." She smiles and kisses him again, deeper this time, more passion, more heat, more everything.

When his arms instantly wrap around her and his tongue slides past her lips, she has trouble remembering why she had to think about this at all.