Is it pathetic that I try to relate a beloved winter song to Castle?

Yes, I know, it probably is. But I couldn't help it. And if you've read one of my other stories, Blizzard, please forgive me for the whole snowy theme. But I was just itching to write a fluffy, pointless little two-shot, so here it is. Well, part one, anyway. But then it turned out a little more shippery than I'd originally intended, but oh, well.

Relationship premise is that they've shared a few very close moments of late, but in true Caskett fashion, they haven't talked about the 'moments' at all. But they still spend time together, solve cases and enjoy long lingering looks with each other, either though neither will broach the subject of 'them'. Timeframe is indefinite; it's after 'Cuffed', but I'm ignoring the holidays and the topic of Ryan's wedding. They're not germane to this story anyway. All we need is snow.

Disclaimer: I own nothing about these characters. But it's really fun to give them some alternate adventures, since 23 episodes is SO not enough.

Oh the weather outside is frightful,

But the fire is so delightful,

And since we've no place to go,

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

"So you're actually jealous of your daughter for spending time with her mother?" Kate asked as she spooned the ravioli onto plates, while he retrieved the garlic bread from the oven.

He stopped to glare at her as the heat poured out of the open oven door. "Hardly. Jealous? Hah! I just merely stated that it's hardly fair for Alexis to be on the set of a movie in sunny San Diego when it's cold and snowy and yukky outside."

"Yukky, Castle? It's beautiful." She gestured out toward the window, where they could see the gently falling snow, each large flake fluffy and soft-looking as they slowly fell out of the sky.

"Beautiful? Do you know how messy this is going to be in a little while?"

"Well, yes, but still, it's nice to look at now, and if you didn't want Alexis to go, then why did you let her pursue the idea?" Alexis had to do some sort of independent study research project for school, and her father had suggested that she kill two birds with one stone: she could visit her mother, and she could use the opportunity to do her research project on something about the movie industry. Once Meredith had found out about it, she was almost gleefully obnoxious with planning for Alexis to accompany her to the set of the movie she was filming. And thus, Alexis got in the required periodic visit with her mother in California, she had an out of doing 'homework' when her mother would inevitably try to take her to parties or whatnot, while her father was stuck in New York, pouting in a snowstorm.

But of course, a lot of the pouting was purely for show and for sympathy, because he had a certain detective for company. And he certainly couldn't complain about that.

"She had that assignment, you know that," he said, trying to add a good natured grumble to his tone.

"Well, then shut up about about it, and let's eat, okay?" She bumped him with her shoulder.

"Fine, but let's take it in and eat it in front of the fire."

She shrugged and nodded. The fire did sound good on a night like this.

As they carried their plates toward the fireplace, he said, "I was surprised you came over. I thought you'd have plans or want to spend some time alone or something."

"Are you trying to say that you only asked me because you didn't think I'd accept?" She raised an eyebrow at him, and then went on to explain. "Like when you invite an obnoxious person to do something specifically when you know the obnoxious person is busy, so, you know, you still get the 'credit' of an invitation, but you don't have to put up with said person?" she chided, knowing that wasn't the case, but still not being able to resist ribbing him a bit.

"No!" he refuted immediately. "I just...we got done with that case and it was a long one, so I was just surprised-pleasantly surprised, I might add-when you accepted my invitation."

"Relax, Rick." Rick? he thought quickly before she continued. "I'm happy to be here. Thank you for the invitation."

"And for the record, I don't find you obnoxious. Not at all. A little intense and bossy and overbearing at times, but not in an obnoxious way." He grinned at her, his observations an obvious comeback to what she said.

"Gee, thanks, Castle. I think." She rolled her eyes. "You know, if that's your way of charming the ladies, you must be losing your touch."

"Only one lady I need to charm," he said as he set his plate down on the table. Then he thought...whoa. Inside thought escaped to the outside. Oops. Looking up, he saw a quizzical expression on her face. Then he held up a finger as if he'd had an inspiration. "Wine?" And he dashed off to the wine rack before she had a chance to answer.

When he came back, she'd kicked off her boots and was making a place on the floor. She'd pulled the coffee table a little closer to the fire, and he set the wine and glasses on it next to the plates of food. After he opened the wine, he announced, "One more thing," and dashed off toward his bedroom. She watched, amused, when he came back, his arms full of pillows. "It's a lot more comfortable to sit on pillows, especially when you get to be a certain age," he told her. "And no, I'm not calling either of us old. I'm simply saying that the 'certain age' to which I was referring is anything on the greater side of twenty."

She smiled and shook her head at him anticipating her making a comment about his age, but didn't say anything in response. After he dropped the pillows, he turned up the fire a bit before he came back to open the wine and pour them each a glass. Then he had a thought. "Oh...you weren't planning to leave soon, were you? Because then you shouldn't have the wine, not if you're driving, and especially not if you're driving in this." He gestured outside toward the snow.

'Leave?' she thought. Honestly, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Should it worry her that the thought hadn't crossed her mind? Should it worry her that she really didn't even want to think about leaving yet? "No," she responded with a slight smile. "I don't have anywhere else I need to be, so I can stay for a while...if that's all right."

He grinned at her in return, his eyes dancing with some form of delight. "Of course it's all right. Remember, I invited you here, and I would love it if you would stay and keep me company. And help me drink this wine and eat all of this food."

"In that case, I would love to stay," she told him with another smile, sounding so forthright about wanting his company that Rick had to wonder if she had already sampled the wine. But they both just began to arrange the pillows on the floor to their liking. The aroma of the italian food was heavenly, and the contrast of the snow falling outside with the fire inside made the whole scene cozy and inviting. So by mutual agreement, they clinked their glasses together and began to eat their meal after situating themselves on the pillows. Not much conversation was heard for the next little while, but then again, not much was needed for a while as they sipped their wine, ate their food, and relaxed on the comfy pillows in front of the warm fire.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It doesn't show signs of stopping,

And I've bought some corn for popping,

The lights are turned way down low,

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

The dinner dishes were cleared and put into the dishwasher and the detective and the author had retired, once again, to the living room to lay on the pillows in front of the fire. Castle had found even more pillows in another closet, and there were now so many that Beckett said that it almost resembled a makeshift couch.

As Kate leaned back against the mound of pillows behind her, her gaze was drawn to the window. "The snow is really coming down. I thought it was only supposed to snow for a few hours, but it looks like it's still going strong. I wonder how much we're going to get?" she wondered aloud.

"The forecast said four to eight inches."

Castle had gotten up to refill their wine glasses, and when he sank back down against the pillows, he positioned himself right next to her, with their arms touching. Their feet were further apart, but the tops of their bodies were angled toward each other, making their heads closer that they would have been if he'd just laid parallel next to her. Their heads were impossibly close, so close that she knew if she turned her head just a little bit, and if he did...

When she felt him there, she inhaled sharply, and she hoped he didn't hear it, and wasn't aware of her surprise. She'd been hypersensitive of him this past month or so, ever since they'd gotten handcuffed together and had been locked in that basement. Several times since then, when they'd been walking down the street (public places, thank goodness), she'd felt his hand lightly touching her on the small of her back. It was nothing in appropriate; in fact, she could hardly feel it. But she did feel it, because it was him. The first time it had happened, she turned to glare at him, mostly from force of habit, but he just grinned at her, almost in challenge for her to say something, and he didn't remove his hand at all. And in a way, she was glad. Because she had to admit that it felt so...familiar, so comforting to her. And after that, she was annoyed with herself to find that she was actually looking for the touches. Then one time, when they'd been walking back from lunch, he'd spotted a cute hat in the window of a boutique, and he grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the window to look at it and ask her advice about if she thought Alexis would like it. And after he showed her the hat, he simply hadn't given her hand back. He'd kept it tucked in his, even after theywere inside the store and he was looking around at a few other things. She didn't want to be so bold by yanking her hand away from him, and she thought it would look kind of pathetic anyway. He was only holding her hand, for goodness sakes. And really, she didn't really even want him to stop holding it. It felt nice, even though she really couldn't even concentrate on what he was saying as he commented on the various things around the shop, because he was holding her hand, and there was absolutely no logical, police or case-related reason for him to do that. So why was he holding her hand anyway? She figured she knew the answer to that, but she wasn't ready to go there yet. No, she definitely wasn't ready to go there yet.

And even though she didn't know why-or wouldn't admit it-she did know that she was kind of glad that neither one of them had gloves on right then.

He eventually let go of her hand when they had to get back in her car to go back to the station. He just let go of it, crawled into the passenger seat, and started fiddling with his phone. Back to normal. Well, he was, anyway. Her hand just felt a little colder then.

But the back-touching or hand-holding was no comparison to what she now thought of as 'The Break Room Incident' from about a week and a half ago. Castle had always gotten into her personal space...that was a given. But she was standing in front of the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew, ruminating over who else? Castle. Of course. Her thoughts had drifted to him precisely because he wasn't there; he'd had a meeting, so she didn't have her morning Cast-uh, coffee fix, and she had to make herself a cup of coffee because her usual delivery service was out. So as she was ruminating, she evidently lost track of her surroundings, and she totally missed the approach of a certain author as he stealthily stole up to her and invaded that personal space in his normal fashion.

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Helloooooo," in a soft voice, drawing out the last syllable. In going over the incident in her mind one of the million or so times she had since then, she realized that one's lips form a natural pucker when drawing out the last syllable of that particular word. But when he surprised her like that, when she wasn't prepared for it, when she didn't even expect him to be in the precinct, she didn't register that it was him right away. So she just reacted and turned quickly in the direction of the voice.

And they both found out that when Person A is right next to Person B's ear, with his lips in a pucker, and Person B turns quickly in Person A's direction, the end result is that Person B's lips will brush Person A's puckered lips.

And furthermore, when Person A and Person B didn't normally engage in activities that involved the touching of lips, the end result was that much more profound. Tingling and lightning bolts and all of that.

Thank goodness nobody else was in the break room right then, because when that happened, neither of them moved for a few seconds. And Kate felt like cringing any time she thought back over the 'Break Room Incident'; because she knew it wasn't entirely true that she didn't move. He didn't move; Castle just kept his soft lips in that pucker, probably too frozen to do anything else once he realized where they were, even though no sound was coming through them anymore. But Kate...somehow, when she felt their lips meet, she knew who it was. She should have pulled back instantaneously. She should have put some distance in between them. But she didn't.

Ever so slightly, she puckered her lips too, and her lips pressed infinitesimally closer to his, applying just the slightest bit of pressure as their touched lips held there for a fraction of a second. Just a fraction of a second before she got her wits back and pulled away.

But what a fraction of a second that was.

She pulled away and one set of stunned eyes met the other as their gazes held. And then the coffee maker began dispensing the coffee into the cup, and it was a welcome interruption to make Kate break their mutual gaze. She waited for the coffee mug to fill, and tried to will her heart to slow down because at this rate, she was sure it was going to beat out of her chest.

All because she had kind of just voluntarily kissed Richard Castle a little bit, and there was absolutely no excuse she could claim this time.

After the mug was filled, she forced herself to turn to him. Hoping for a bored look, she said, "So, you're h...here." Damn, what was that hitch in her voice? "I thought you had meetings? What happened?"

He gave her a long look before he answered, citing a postponement, but then they each took a cup of coffee back to her desk, and of course, per their usual M.O., never spoke another word about the surprising, inadvertent, accidental, barely-there kiss.

When it happened, was this how it was supposed to happen, she wondered? Were they just supposed to gravitate toward each other, getting bolder and bolder with gestures and looks, until that line was so blurry that they couldn't see it anymore?

And now, here they were, a week and a half later, resting on pillows in front of a fire while it was snowing outside, sipping a wonderful wine. And they were laying against the comfy pillows, in that position, where their heads were so close that it reminded her of "The Breakroom Incident".

Suddenly, she sat up, remembering what she'd brought with her in her bag. She hopped up, smiling at the suprised look on Rick's face. "Hey, where are you going? I was just getting comfortable."

She threw a look back at him that said, "I just bet you were." She kept moving toward her bag, but instructed "Just a minute," over her shoulder at him, indicating for him to wait. He sat up and watched her quizzically while she grabbed something out of her bag. He couldn't make out what it was, but he would find out soon enough because she was on her way back, holding the item in her hand.

She tossed the item at him, and had no choice but to catch it with a little 'oof' as it hit his chest. He looked at the package, and then he laughed as she sat down and settled her back against the pillow again. "Popcorn?" he asked her. "You brought popcorn? Is that some kind of a hint to tell me that my dinner wasn't filling enough for you? And why did you bring popcorn, anyway? I have plenty. Do you know how many movies we watch in this household?"

"It's Boy Scout popcorn, Castle." At his blank look, she rolled her eyes. "You know...Boy Scouts? Merit badges, Eagle Scouts, Scout's Honor and all that?"

"Detective, I know what the Boy Scouts are. I just don't know what that has to do with you throwing popcorn at my ruggedly muscular chest."

She so wanted to roll her eyes again in response to his vanity, but instead she settled for taking her finger and poking it into said chest. "Not bad, I guess," she said absently, obviously testing out the ruggedness of his chest. "But the popcorn is like Girl Scout Cookies. Fundraiser. Boy Scouts sell popcorn. How do you not know this piece of trivia?" She shook her head. "Whatever. So anyway, on one of the rare nights I was home, the kid down the hall knocked on my door and since I couldn't really say no, I bought this because it didn't have to be eaten right away. And then when I came over, I thought I'd donate it to your pantry."

"Not that I'm complaining about your oh, so thoughtful and chest-trauma-inducing gift, but why didn't you keep it so you can make popcorn at your place?"

"Simple. I don't have a popcorn popper. I had one once, but it broke and I never got another one."

Rick looked at her as if she'd just grown horns. "No popcorn popper? That's...that's Unamerican!"

"Well, be thankful that I gave it to you then."

"Well, thank you, Detective. And since you've brought such a wonderful gift for the host, I think the host would be remiss in his duties if he didn't offer to use some of your gift." He raised himself up off the pillows. "So," he asked, holding up the package of unpopped popcorn, "Butter and salt?"

"Load it up," she replied with a smile. And he took off toward the kitchen to start popping the popcorn.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She helped him get everything ready, and then while the corn was popping, she wandered over to the window to look at the gently falling snow outside. She must have been lost in thought, because the next thing she knew was the feeling of a hand on her right shoulder and a voice by her left ear saying, "Okay, I will say that it's a little bit pretty. Right now. But I'm still glad I'm in here, with the fire."

And you, he added silently to himself.

After 'The Breakroom Incident,' she knew better than to turn suddenly toward him, especially when this time she knew who it was and him being there was not at all unexpected. Perhaps the hand on her shoulder was a bit unexpected, but it still felt nice. She absently reached back with her left hand and placed it over his hand on her shoulder, patting it just a bit as she agreed, "Yes, it is pretty. And so high above the street lights...it looks like the snow is almost glowing. It's kind of a nice vantage point you have from up here in the clouds, Rick."

Rick. There was that first name thing again. He still liked hearing it roll off her lips; it was so different than the more public-sounding, business-like 'Castle'.

She took a deep breath and turned away from the window just a bit, toward him, and when he didn't drop his arm, yes, it was almost like he had his arm around her. But at least she was somewhat prepared for it this time.

However, as she turned toward him, she noticed that he had an enormous bowl of popcorn held against his chest by his other arm. "Geez, Castle," she exclaimed, "how much popcorn do you think the two of us can eat, anyway?" The bowl he was carrying would have put the family size tub at most movie theaters to shame.

She removed her hand from on top of his as she reached into the bowl, grabbed a few kernals and popped them into her mouth. He, however, kept his arm where it was, and as she sampled the popcorn, she tried not to think of how they were in some sort of almost-embrace, even though they had a huge bowl of popcorn between them.

"So?" he asked simply, and she hoped he was asking about the taste of the popcorn.

He had a cheerfully expectant look on his face, but as much as she might like to stay right there, with his arm sort of around her, she knew she needed a bit of space and distance from those blue eyes and that endearing look that she knew she could get lost in. So she took another small handful of popcorn and turned back to the window and away from him. Aiming for a light tone, she finally responded, "Not too shabby, Rick. I think I could get used to it."

And with her response, he was left wondering if she was talking about the popcorn, or...something else. Like his arm on her shoulder, that she didn't seem to be in any hurry to lose.

"So in that case," he said, not really saying exactly which case he was talking about, "since it's still snowing, and it looks like it will be for a while, do you want to just stand here and watch it, or do you want to take this delicious popcorn over to the pillow pile, where we can cud-uh, sit in front of the roaring fire and enjoy the remainder of the wine with this delicious popcorn? Not to mention enjoying each others wonderful company?"

If she heard his slip about cuddling in front of the fire, she didn't let on. She just cocked her head to the side and pretended to think about it for a few moments before stepping deftly around him to head back toward the fire. His hand had no choice but to drop off her shoulder, although he left it there as long as he could, which actually resulted in him giving her back a little caress as she walked away. When she was about halfway to the fire, she stopped and turned around, saying, "Winter night...fire, popcorn and a good wine? Snow outside? It's pretty out there, but, yeah, I'll take the fire." And she turned around to finish heading over to the pillows.

And upon hearing her answer, he started to follow her to join her by the fire, grin on his face. He didn't really care what happened outside right now; inside, right where he was, was where he wanted to be. He realized all of a sudden that he liked the snow, because the snow was the reason that they were sipping wine and sitting in front of the fire in the first place. He reached into the bowl and grabbed a few pieces of popcorn, and before he popped them into his mouth, he uttered one single sentence that reflected his new thoughts.

"Let it snow."

So who would have ever thought I could spin that long of a chapter from half of a song? I tried to cover the major points of those first two verses. And if there isn't already one going on, maybe we should make a winter song challenge. Pick a winter song and write a fic about it. (If someone already thought up that idea, I apologize and I'll shut up about it now.)

I tried to invent a little backstory for them, so I hope it was at least somewhat believable. Lord knows they do just go on their merry ways and never (really) talk about a blaming thing. Wonder if they'll ever really discuss getting married, with a proposal and all of that, or if they'll just start planning their wedding one day.

For the next chapter, if you know the song and the last two verses, you can probably figure out where I'll have to go with this, . The one thing I haven't figured out is how to make it so the fire is 'slowly dying'. I'm sure we're talking a gas fireplace, so I'll have to think on that one a bit. (LOL)

Anyway...the usual. Thoughts? Worth continuing, or too cliche/silly/OOC? Let me know what you think!