Thanks again for everyone who has stuck with me through this wonderful journey. I have been a tad busy, without any time to even watch the Castle finale. Yes, I know. Shameful. But here is the last instalment (just in time for my birthday!).

Please let me know what you think. I would love to read your thoughts on my first Castle fanfic.

Abuela, did you ever figure out how to stay in love?
I promise I won't tell a soul I know.

- Denice Frohman, Abuela's Dance

By the time Kate finally reaches the familiar brushed steel and cherry oak door, her heart is pounding a symphony in her ears. She is done with all the stalling, so sick of their holding pattern. She wants more. She is ready for more.

She takes a deep breath and knocks sharply on the door. It's time, Beckett. It is an agonizing few seconds before she hears the soft padding of footsteps approaching the other side of the entrance. She shuffles her feet, smoothes down her jacket and when the door finally swings open she blurts out the words that she has guarded so fiercely for so long.

"I love you."

When she looks up, she is met with a stunned Castle. A redheaded Castle.

"Oh! Hi, Detective Beckett."

Kate feels the blush rush up her neck like a mid-summer heat wave. She has no words, her confession still fresh on her face. She grasps for the courage that brought her here but it slips through her fingers like smoke. She cannot tear her eyes away from Alexis and her innocent hopeful expression.

Thankfully, Alexis recovers quickly. "Why don't you come in? Dad was just making us a midnight snack," she says cheerfully.

Us?

When Kate peers inside of the loft, Martha is indeed sitting on one of the bar stools, her knees canted towards the door with a bright knowing grin on her face. Castle is standing behind the kitchen island in that casual navy Henley shirt she borrowed months ago when she stayed the night after a movie marathon celebrating the end of Alexis's exams. He stands frozen with a whipped cream can over a steaming white mug, his jaw hanging loose, eyes wide.

She feels Alexis gently tug on her jacket sleeve and she tentatively follows the girl into the kitchen where his mother greets her with a light hug and a warm, "Hello, Darling," before she turns to her son and suggests that Kate might want a cup of hot cocoa as well.

Castle obediently turns around to grab another ceramic mug from the cabinet. Meanwhile, the two redheads stand together, a united front, fixing Kate with a loaded look, equal parts scrutinous and cautious optimism. Protective yet hopeful.

She hides the frown that threatens to creep onto her face. How could she have done this to his family? To inspire such hesitation and distrust. Promised Castle too little of herself that his family no longer knows how much to expect.

But she came here to make things right, walked in with her heart on her sleeve plain for his mother and daughter to see and judge for themselves. They do and Kate waits for the verdict, standing strong, willing the resolution, the commitment and everything else she feels for the man across the island to show on her face.

When Martha and Alexis pass a look between them and they agree on a soft smile, Kate knows she passed the test. Martha squeezes her arm, an encouraging or cautioning gesture, she can't be sure, before grabbing her mug and sweeping out into the living room with Alexis at her heels.

Far enough to give her and Castle privacy, but close enough to keep watch. As though they might be needed later to pick up the pieces of whatever mess she may leave in her wake.

Now they are alone. Sort of. She turns her attention back to her partner and he is finishing the whipped cream topping on their drinks as if she never said a thing. As if he didn't hear her words, her confession. Just like she did almost a year ago.

"So, uh… how is your grandfather doing?" he asks lightly.

Really, Castle? You're going to play this off?

No. No more avoiding the elephant in the room. Instead, she walks around the counter until she is standing right next to him. She takes the whipped cream out from his hands, tops off the second mug with a practiced hand before setting the can on the counter. He doesn't look at her.

She tries to keep her hands to herself as she speaks by gripping the edge of the counter. "I think— I am ready. Before all of this, before we became … broken, believe it or not, for weeks I've been wracking my brain as to how to ask you to, uh," she coughs nervously, "spend time with me. You know, outside of the precinct for lunch or dinner or even just a walk through the park. I-I guess was under the impression that we were getting closer and I wanted—" she stops her rambling, feeling like a teenager all over again with the stuttering and the sweaty palms. Only this time it matters.

She isn't the one with the beautiful words. Those are his strengths but right now he stays silent, his eyes fixed on the mug.

She takes another breath and when she starts again, her voice is determined but tender, soft. All Kate, no Beckett. "I'm ready for what you used to want. I want the promise of tomorrow and together and always. I want us, Castle. I want you."

His gaze doesn't waver even when she ducks her head to try to catch his eye. It doesn't seem like he is looking at anything at all, staring straight through the light pale foam and the rising steam.

"Rick," she tries his first name, "Please. Say something?" She is not above begging, not for this. Not for him.

His silence is unsettling. Each second that ticks by chips away at her courage until her eyes sting and water because maybe she really has lost him. Maybe he is really finished with them.

"Kate, I can't―" The word croaks out from Castle's throat and her heart plummets. "I want all of that and more. I want— I want … so much." He finally turns to her, his sweet sad eyes guarded, as though he doesn't believe that this could possibly be real. Like this is all a cruel joke and he is waiting for the punch line.

Her chest squeezes at the defeat she sees in his posture, the way he curls himself inwards like he needs to shield himself from her. But she can fix this. She will fix this.

Because she loves him.

She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a lime jello cup. She comes closer to him and waits until he looks at the cup in her hands, its surface dancing and jiggling joyfully as her hands shake to take off the clear plastic cover. She is terrified.

"I know that I may not be what you want anymore and I know that I'm broken in more ways than you can count but..." Kate gives him a shy smile, bright and beautiful and promising, holding the green jello cup between them like it is a diamond ring.

"Richard Castle. Be mine?"

She faintly hears a gasp from the living room. Apparently Alexis and Martha aren't just watching. But Castle doesn't make a sound. Barely reacts aside from flicking his deep blue eyes back to her hazel ones.

She waits, feels like she has been doing this a lot lately, for him to say something again, to give her an answer so she can either walk away with her tail between her legs or stay and―

Without taking his eyes off her, she watches as he straightens up and opens a nearby drawer to pull out a spoon. He pierces the smooth surface of the jiggly treat in her hands, scoops out a spoonful and takes it into his mouth in a slow sensual slide that sends heat straight down to her belly, her gaze locked on his lips.

There is a thick pause, his face a stone and all the air freezes in her lungs. And then he smirks around the spoon and says, "Mmm, Flubber."

She laughs, a musical sound, and it calms the jackrabbit rhythm in her chest. His humour, his smile.

Kate is about quip back that he still hasn't answered when she feels an arm wrap around her waist, pulling her forward until she stumbles into his chest. Without her heels, he bows over her and before she realizes what is happening, his mouth is on hers.

He tastes like the bite of lime jello he just ate and that special Castle flavour that she has been craving ever since her first hit, as though his kisses were a drug and she has been in withdrawal until now.

He kisses her languidly, his hand gently coming around her back, tracing a line up to the back of her neck to play with her hair, his fingers never settling in one spot like he wants to touch all of her at once.

She melts into him, her hands coming up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheeks, his short stubble scratching the pads of her fingers. He nips at her bottom lip and she opens to him, lets his tongue paint a hot, wet line in the cave of her mouth. And she gives back, pledging her love over and over with the brush of her lips, the curl of her tongue. He swallows the moan that barely makes out her throat, pleasure shooting up her spine and all the way down to her toes.

Kate barely bites back a whimper when he pulls away, her limbs limp and heavy. He leans his forehead against hers, his eyelashes feathering her face. Again she waits with bated breath, her eyes a little glazed and fluttering, unable to settle on his eyes or his mouth.

His fingers are tracing light circles on her waist, arms still holding her close. She is acutely aware of the entire line of his body against her own, from the taut muscles of his thighs to the tip of his nose rubbing the bridge of hers.

He smiles then, the delight in his eyes leaving crinkles at the corners, the curve of his lips spreading wide across his face, dimples winking. Happy.

Finally, he answers,

"Yes."

End.