Summary: In which an accidental confession reveals much more than Castle intended. Spoilers for 5x10.

Author's Note: Because I couldn't help myself and just *had* to write one more chapter :)

Disclaimer: Still don't own Castle. Le sigh.

Epilogue

(Six months later)

"Oh, darling, what is this?"

Martha comes flouncing into the kitchen in typical whirlwind fashion, taking in the dining room table set with beautiful china and fancy wine glasses, the unlit candles arranged elegantly around the room, her son in an apron and hurrying about the kitchen.

"Just making a nice dinner," Castle replies distractedly, lifting the pot of pasta from the stove and crossing to the sink, emptying it into the strainer. Steam wafts up as he does so and he steps back from the sink just in time to see his mother lift the lid on the other pot, take a whiff.

"Chicken Primavera," she announces as the delicious aroma floats through the air. "So what's the occasion?"

Castle shrugs, aiming for nonchalance as he lifts the strainer and transfers the drained noodles into the nice bowl sitting next to the sink. "Nothing special."

Martha narrows her eyes, not believing her son but not pushing. He doesn't go to such lengths for a meal for just a random evening, even if it is for his girlfriend. She has a suspicion as to what might be occurring tonight but Castle doesn't elaborate, and when he refuses to say more, Martha replaces the lid, makes her way out of the kitchen and crosses to the coat closet.

"Okay, well, I'm out of your way," she announces, pulling on a bright blue pea coat. "Enjoy your evening."

"Goodbye mother," Castle calls out with a hint of a smile, breathing a sigh of relief when the door shuts behind her and he can lose all pretenses.

Because the truth is, he's nervous. Really nervous. His heart has been racing since he stepped into the kitchen an hour ago, and he nearly dropped the dishes as he set the table because his palms were so sweaty.

He places the bowl of pasta in the oven on low heat along with the garlic bread, stirs the sauce one last time before lowering the burner temperature to simmer. The salad is already chilling in the fridge, as is the wine. He rubs his hands together, glances around. Everything is ready, but Kate isn't due for about another ten minutes.

Castle removes his apron, drapes it over one of the bar stools, and crosses to his office. He opens his bottom desk drawer, digs all the way to the rear corner where he stashed the small velvet box late last week.

With a shaking hand, he removes it, rights himself and sinks down into his desk chair. He places the box in front of himself on the wooden surface, eyes firmly fixed on the small object as the words he spent a month preparing float through his head.

But it's all wrong, because he's nervous and the adrenaline is pumping though his veins, and suddenly the words aren't coming in the right order.

Castle pushes back the chair more fiercely than necessary, gets to his feet and crosses to the far corner of the room, as far away from the box as possible. He can do this. He can. He just needs to get a handle on himself.

He pauses, forces himself to relax and take ten agonizingly slow, calming breaths. The immediate effect is limited, but he feels his head clear enough that snippets of the words begin to come back. He releases a long exhale, begins to pace back and forth across the room as he allows the practiced words to spill from his mouth.

"Kate. Ever since we first met, I've...No." He shakes his head, tries again. "Since the moment I laid eyes on you..." He trails off again, runs his hands over his face.

For someone who makes a living with words, he's become notorious for not being able to find the right ones when it counts. Especially when it comes to Kate.

He groans, lightly smacks the corner of the bookshelf in frustration. Dammit, he spent so long preparing the perfect words. He is a grown man, a writer. Kate has inspired four books worth of words, written by the tap of his fingers on a keyboard. He can do this.

"Kate," he begins again in a low voice, soft enough that he will be able to hear her key in the door of the loft when she arrives. "I'll never forget the day that we met, the way you came barging into my book party and dragged me off for questioning. I...no," he pauses once more, tossing synonyms around in his mind as he struggles to recall the exact string of words he blended together in his head, because the way he mentally recited it last night was so perfect.

"I had no idea, on that day, exactly how much my life was about to change. But now that it has, I can't imagine ever going back to the way that things were before I met you." He switches directions then, begins to retrace his steps across the office. "I can't imagine h..." Castle stops abruptly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he catches sight of a stunned figure leaning against the door frame, both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

"Kate..." he stammers, eyes flying to the velvet box lying in plain sight on his desk and then back to her. Her gaze follows his automatically, but by the way that the expression on her face doesn't change, he can tell that she's already seen it, has already deduced what's happening. "When did you...wha...how long have you been standing there?"

She drops her arms, crosses to him in three long strides and reaches out to clasp his hands in hers. "Long enough to know that my answer is yes."

"What?" he splutters, confused, his brain taking a moment to catch up.

"Yes, Castle," she murmurs, dropping one of his hands and lifting hers to cup his cheek, gaze never breaking from his.

"I, ummm..." he stammers, head spinning. There was supposed to be a romantic dinner and wine and dessert and then a proposal. But now...

Kate smiles, drops Castle's other hand and pats his chest firmly. "But I can tell this isn't exactly what you had planned, and I don't want to completely ruin your moment, so..."

She steps back, sinks into his desk chair, eyes wide and fixed on him expectantly. It takes a moment for Castle to fully comprehend the enormity of what just happened, to come to grips with the fact that she just said yes (for the second time, really, though both of them were somewhat accidental) and yet is still providing him the chance to properly propose to her.

He takes a deep breath, allows himself a moment to regain his composure before stepping up in front of her seated form and beginning to speak.

"Kate," he begins, amazed to find that the words are flowing easily off the tip of his tongue now that he already knows what her answer will to be. "I can't believe it's been over five years since we met. Five years since the day you crashed my book party and dragged me downtown for questioning. Five years since I weaseled my way into your life and wouldn't take no for an answer no matter how much you pretended to despise my presence."

She laughs slightly and he reaches out to take her hand in his, fingers dancing over her skin.

"Five years. And I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into, how much my life would change."

Kate smiles up at him, runs her thumb gently over the ridges of his knuckles.

"I had no idea that what began as inspiration and shallow attraction would turn into respect and trust and a love that I'd long since accepted as nonexistent. I had no idea that we would go from writer and muse to partners in every sense of the word."

Her smile broadens, eyes twinkling up at him.

"But now that we have, I can't imagine my life any other way. I can't imagine not waking up next to you every day, not spending our days side by side solving crimes. I can't imagine being so inspired by anyone else, writing any characters other than Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook, immortalizing any story other than ours. I can't imagine not coming home with you every evening, not falling asleep with you in my arms every night. I can't imagine not loving you with every fiber of my being. And I can't imagine living out my life with anyone else."

She slips one hand from his, reaches up to swipe at a tear, because she may know the gist of what's coming but his words have still managed to drill straight down into the very depths of her heart and unearth a swarm of emotions.

Castle reaches out with his now free hand, lifts the box from its place on the desk. With the box in one hand, her hand still clutched in his other, he drops to one knee in front of her, an adorably hopeful and excited expression on his face. Her eyes never leave his as he continues to speak.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"

Kate's free hand flies up to her chest as more tears make their way down her cheeks, but she doesn't bother to wipe them away because she knows she can't stop them even if she tries.

"Yes," she breaths, watery hazel eyes locking with Castle's eager blue ones.

He drops her other hand, gently lifts the lid on the box to expose a beautiful sparkling diamond ring, a line of flawlessly cut stones inlaid into a shimmering white gold band. Kate's eyes never leave the ring as he lifts it with a trembling hand, slips it onto her left ring finger, and raises her hand to his lips to press a kiss just beneath the beautiful engagement band.

"Castle," Kate breathes, flicking her tear-filled eyes up to his.

He's gazing at her so tenderly, eyes overflowing with so much love, and Kate tugs on his hand, guiding him to her. He awkwardly makes his way to his feet as he nears, pulling her up along with him. She comes easily, body liquid in his arms as hers rise to wrap tightly around him. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and her tears melding with her hot breath on his skin send a shiver through his body. Castle automatically hugs her tighter, one hand finding purchase on her lower back while the other comes to rest securely across her shoulders, his hand settling against the back of her head, fingers tangling into her hair.

After a moment, the hand on her head gently guides her back and up until her eyes met his. He slides his hand around, gently thumbing away a few tears as he cups her jaw, pulls her in for a deep kiss. Kate melts into him as their lips meet, the gesture overflowing with so many different emotions that she feels as though her heart might burst.

They're getting married.

Eventually the need for air wins out and they separate a fraction of an inch, heavy breaths mingling in the minute space between them. Castle tilts his head so that his forehead rests against hers and though he's too close for her eyes to truly focus, she can see enough to tell that he's absolutely beaming, so much excitement written in the crinkles that line the corners of his smiling eyes.

Kate is absolutely sure she looks just as smitten as him. Her cheeks hurt from the giant grin on her face, but she can't stop herself.

Because they're getting married.

And maybe it wasn't the perfect proposal, maybe she showed up at the wrong moment and kind of ruined the surprise. But even so, it was absolutely perfect in their own special way.

Because he wove together such a beautiful string of words as he recounted their story.

And because she said yes.

THE (REAL) END