You've already won me over in spite of me
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault
Alanis Morissette - "Head Over Feet"

The sun has been up for a while, eagerly announcing its presence through an opening in the curtains she hadn't properly closed the night before. Kate's significantly less interested in rising, her bed offering layers of warmth and comfort for a body that still aches with a bone-deep chill. It's been just over 24 hours since she and Castle were pulled from the freezer, but she can't seem to get warm enough; she imagines he is having the same problem, and the acknowledgement of their shared trauma is oddly soothing.

Further complicating her ability to roll out of bed is the emotional hangover that reliably follows a break-up, no matter how overdue. After Josh had showed up at the precinct the previous afternoon, she'd held him close and watched while Castle had slipped out of reach, whatever he'd been about to say lost to the arrival of another man. Castle had left gracefully, even with the obvious weight resting upon his shoulders, unwilling to crack jokes about her relationship so soon after she'd confessed her doubts about it; his quiet goodbye had only made it more clear that she didn't want to be apart from him at all.

She'd sighed into Josh's chest and passed it off as relief, allowing him to believe in them for a bit longer. Then they'd returned to her apartment where she'd ended things as quickly and respectfully as possible, offering him the simple explanation that, while she really liked him, she didn't want to waste his time while she kept one foot out the door. A predictable range of emotions had followed; most notably, the frustration he'd expressed over postponing his trip to Haiti had made her even more certain that breaking up was the best decision for both of them. He would be free to focus on his medical missions, and she would be free to focus on…everything she wasn't quite ready to put into words.

Words were not her domain.

She'd been on the receiving end of a few terse accusations as he hurriedly gathered some of the belongings stashed in her apartment and she promised to box the rest and hold them until he returned to the city, but in the end, they were both able to hold their heads high and say a polite farewell. She hadn't had the energy to manage even a hot bath or a glass of wine after he'd left, choosing instead to wrap herself in too many blankets and sleep it off.

Now she's curled on her side and staring at the phone that rests on her nightstand; she reaches for it before she can second-guess her decision, quickly typing out a text. She considers it a success when she deletes only two attempts at a witty greeting, before finally settling on something simple.

Morning, Castle.

As usual, he responds immediately, never one to keep her waiting. Morning, Beckett. Don't tell me the world needs to be saved again. I'm not sure I can get my tights and cape back from the dry cleaner's in time.

In the privacy of her bedroom, she doesn't even attempt to hide the ridiculous smile she feels pulling at her cheeks. Nope, we still have the day off. Do you have plans?

None at all. You?

Subconsciously drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, she taps out another message. Well, I could really use a trip to the comfort food truck today.

She hopes the subtext is clear, that he remembers the last time they specifically sought out comfort food together was when he broke up with Gina. At some point she'll explain, but right now she's just emotional enough to dodge the conversation. The longer it takes him to text back, the more likely it is that he understands, but she's still strangely nervous about what he'll say, staring at her phone while she unknowingly holds her breath.

I'd be happy to return that particular favor. Just tell me when.

Her exhale is heavy with relief and hope, and they make arrangements to meet for lunch. She's confident that Castle has strong feelings for her; even if he'd managed to hide them behind an allegedly fake kiss, they had been written all over his face before he'd wrapped his hand around the wires of a bomb. And she's finally willing to admit that she wants him just as much, having fallen for her best friend sometime between finding him standing over a dead body and saving Manhattan by his side. She knows she won't be able to jump into it with him, regardless of how much she wishes she could, but taking this baby step feels almost as satisfying.

Kate tugs the knit cap over her head and fights back the shiver rolling outward from her core. It's probably as much from the anticipation of her lunch date with Castle as from the early-March weather or a freezer-bound flashback, but she's still grateful for the thick sweater, wool coat, and scarf she donned before she left her apartment. Until she's brave enough to curl into his embrace, driven more by honesty than by hypothermic desperation, this will have to do.

Her heart jumps at the sight of him, her stomach fluttering like she's a teenager again, but she smiles at how handsome he is, leaning against a building with his hands in his pockets and an uncharacteristically shy grin directed her way. It almost drives her to stand on her tiptoes and kiss it away.

Almost.

Instead, she nods toward the truck parked a dozen feet away. "Hungry?"

"Absolutely."

They say little as they get their food, then walk a couple of blocks to a park where they can sit down and eat side by side. Her grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup are exactly what she needs to counter the cold air around her; the warm laughter that bubbles inside her when she sees Castle attempt to shovel a still-steaming bite of macaroni and cheese into his mouth helps her feel even better. His reaction to the burn on his tongue is wonderfully ridiculous, his wide eyes and wildly waving hand causing her to shake her head in pure delight.

"You think this is funny, Beckett?" he sputters.

"I think you've ordered mac and cheese enough times to know that it comes out pretty hot." She reaches toward the bowl resting on his lap, coming back with a spoonful for herself. "First, it's not a contest to see how much you can heap into one bite. Take a little less and it will cool faster. Second, bring it to your mouth and blow on it. That'll help, too."

He seems stunned as she demonstrates, staring at her mouth when she swallows and following the swipe of her tongue over her lips. But as enchanted as he clearly is, he also recovers quickly. Just as she returns to her sandwich and lifts it for another bite, he leans forward and helps himself.

"Quid pro quo," he teases around the mouthful of food.

Falling into a comfortable silence, they enjoy their lunches – no longer stealing bites from each other – and watch the few people outside in the middle of a winter weekday. When they're done, Castle gets up to dispose of their trash, sitting further away on the bench when he returns. It immediately tips her off to his decision to address the elephant in the room. Or at least his acknowledgment that one exists.

"So, I guess you didn't get to do much more celebrating after I left last night."

"Hmmm, no. We didn't stick around the precinct much longer." She sighs and her gaze drops to the ground in front of them, quiet for several seconds before she continues. "We went back to my place and talked. I suggested he spend his time and energy on the things that matter most in his life. He replied that I should stop kidding myself and do the same in mine."

"Stop kidding yourself?" Castle asks, the confusion obvious in his question.

She shoots him one brave look, all the answers there for him to see. Then she shutters the truth and looks away again. "Anyway, he left quietly enough."

"You could've called me last night if you'd needed a friend."

"I know. I just didn't really feel like talking about it."

He nudges her with his shoulder. "And still don't."

That makes her smile again, the fact that he knows her well enough that he won't push for more. "Still don't."

When he stands and offers his hand, she takes it without hesitation and allows him to lead her away. She has no idea where he plans to take her, but she finds that she doesn't care at all. She's ready to follow.

They end up at a bookstore she's probably walked by a million times, but has never stopped into for some reason or another. She likes it immediately, finding it to be in the Goldilocks zone of not too vast and ostentatious, yet not too cluttered and intimate either. By unspoken agreement, they split up and she happily wanders past shelf after shelf of heaven, willing to get lost in words she's yet to read.

She spends a decent amount of time browsing biographies and memoirs, forever curious about other people's lives, even if she doesn't pry as overtly as Castle. Then she browses another section, finding a gorgeous baseball anthology that she can give her dad on his next birthday. That decision quickly sparks the realization that Castle's birthday is only a month away, and there must be some wonderful gift ideas surrounding her if she just gives it some thought. Quickly scoping out the store, she finds her partner thoroughly distracted by a book he's picked up in the YA section; she's confident that he won't be looking for her anytime soon, so she sets off on her treasure hunt.

With no concrete plan, she taps her fingertips along shelves as she winds her way through the bookstore until she stumbles upon something so perfect for him that she breaks into a relieved smile. She stops for a moment, concerned that he may already own it, but she doesn't remember seeing it in his office and duplicate books aren't necessarily a terrible problem to have. Shrugging to herself, she picks up his present and walks toward the cashier. It's on her way there that a second gift possibility catches her eye – for reasons she's entirely unwilling to dissect right now – so she adds it to her pile as she hurries to make her purchases and calm her over-eager heart.

The books are barely tucked into a large bag, her receipt in hand, when Castle's head pops over her shoulder. "Hey, big spender. Whatcha got there?"

"A present for my dad and a couple of other things that caught my eye." His warm breath against her ear and the press of his body, aligned perfectly with hers, are far too distracting. She spins to redirect his attention, giving herself a chance to regroup. "And what do you have?"

He holds the books up for her to see before he sets them on the counter for the cashier. "It's a series Alexis and her friends have been talking about for quite a while. I figured I should probably jump on the bandwagon and see what the fuss is all about."

"Well, you'll have to let me know what you think. If they're good, maybe I can borrow them from you."

The look on his face is one of both pleasure and surprise. "I'd be happy to share."

Castle finishes paying, then gestures to the café attached to the store. It's unnecessary for him to ask, nor does she need to answer, so they make their way toward the familiar scent of coffee and a much appreciated caffeine fix. Once they have one hand curled around their cups and the other carrying their books, they leave the cocoon of the building for the chilly Manhattan streets, heading in the direction of her apartment. It's not far and they arrive all too soon; though part of her longs for the solitude that she holds dear, the last few hours have settled her in a way she hadn't fully recognize she needed.

It launches an internal debate about whether she should invite him up or leave well enough alone. She's enjoying his company more than a little, but she also recognizes the selfishness of asking too much of him when she isn't ready to give it all back. She'll get there – she's intent on them eventually becoming them – but it won't happen today and she chokes on her hesitance.

Ever observant, Castle doesn't push, giving her an easy out instead. "I should probably head back to the loft, get some writing done before we pick up a new case."

"Sounds good. I'll be back at the precinct early tomorrow, so I'll call you if we get anything." She wants to kiss him goodbye and sees the desire reflected back at her, but she steps backward toward the door with a little wave. "Thanks for today, Castle."

"Thank you for inviting me to lunch."

And in that simple sentence she hears all that he doesn't say: Thank you for reaching out to me. Thank you for letting me see your smile and your sadness. Thank you for the promise laced through an afternoon spent together.

She smiles and stares at him for an extra moment or two. "You're welcome. For everything."