A/N: Set post 2x18, 'Boom', while Beckett is still living in Castle's loft.

Beckett shivers as they rush through the front door, Castle hustling behind her to escape the soft snowfall turned brutal blizzard claiming the world around them. The door slams once they're both inside, the harsh wind howling in their wake.

"The forecast said nothing about a storm," Castle hisses through chattering teeth, shaking the layer of white dust from his shoulders while she shifts from foot to foot in the foyer of her dad's cabin, scanning the living room, the fireplace, and sighing out in relief when she sees a fresh pile of chopped wood nearby.

Thank god her father had been periodically visiting the second home since winter had begun, keeping the place stocked and prepared for the consequences of the season's unforgiving chill.

"Never should have made the trip out for that interview," Kate mutters, striding across the room to get started on a fire. "If it doesn't let up, we're going to be trapped here overnight."

"At least we have a safe place to be trapped," he murmurs, shuffling into the living room after her, squatting down in front of the fireplace and helping her load the logs of wood into the iron cove. "With the way that snow was beginning to turn blinding, I was afraid we were going to be stuck huddling for warmth in the car on the side of the road."

Kate steals a sideways glance in his directions, catches the sly quirk of his lips and rolls her eyes.

"What? There are worse ways to spend Valentine's Day," he muses, grinning while he hands her the box of matches. "Though, I do hope we are able to make it out by the evening, I had plans."

Her fingers stumble for a split second, the match failing to strike across the box. "Oh?"

"Mhmm."

That's all she receives, a noncommittal hum of a reply, and she isn't sure why that bothers her so much.

Castle becomes more devastated with each new inch of snow that sticks to the ground, piles up outside around the cabin, seals their fate for the evening.

They've been stuck in her dad's cabin for over three hours now, night has fallen outside, and the snow has failed to let up, barricading them inside with no hope of making it back to the city any time soon. Certainly not in time for him to execute the date he'd been planning for over two weeks now.

"Stop pouting, Castle. I'm sure your date will understand," Beckett calls from the kitchen, her mouth forming a scowl she fails to hide in time, but she keeps her gaze lowered to the coffee she's been brewing that she pours into her cup with excessive diligence.

"It's not the date I was worried about," he sighs, secretly enjoying how she's not so secretly put off by the idea of him going out for Valentine's Day with whom she assumes is another woman.

It's no secret he's been attracted to Kate Beckett from the moment she arrested him at his book party, not necessarily surprising how that attraction has bloomed into something more over the past year, that it's burned brighter since she moved into his loft a couple of weeks ago. The stay is temporary, she's been looking at apartments whenever she has the chance (which, much to his delight, isn't often with her work schedule), but the nights they've spent lounging together on his couch, talking over glasses of wine about both murder cases and not, and the mornings spent in his kitchen, dancing around each other for coffee, stealing bites of each other's breakfast, have made a lasting impression.

He wants her. So badly. And in so many ways he had never expected.

"Expensive reservation?" she assumes, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Somewhat," he plays along, rising from the couch to join her in the kitchen, steal a cup of her coffee.

He may have made an unnecessary reservation at a restaurant, may have made a few special requests and pulled a few strings for the sake of privacy and candlelight at a booth in a diner where they'd had their first "date". He may have planned to surprise her, not only with flowers and the charm of the date, but with himself.

He wanted to prove that he could be more than the class clown, more than the playboy she'd seen in papers before ever even meeting him, more than just her friend.

"You should call then, let both your date and the restaurant know you aren't going to make it," she mumbles, nodding towards the persistent fall of pelting snow outside the window. "We'll be lucky if we're out by tomorrow."

Castle sighs, doesn't hide the pout he aims at the window this time. "You're right. I wish I could have at least picked up some complimentary chocolates for you along the way."

He waits, watches her brow furrow, the sizzle of irritated gold in her eyes flaring with realization as her gaze flies towards him. But it isn't pleasant surprise bursting through her irises.

"I... your date was-"

Rick swallows, but his developing nerves fail to ease, only growing in intensity instead. "You. Or, at least, I'd hoped it would be you. I was going to ask when we got home, but obviously, plans changed."

He doesn't know what he expected, only what he'd hoped for, and the sheer look of terror in her eyes wasn't it.

"You wanted to take me out on a date for Valentine's Day?" she clarifies, biting down on her bottom lip in the same moment, certainly not helping him formulate an answer.

"I - I had hoped," he nods, fisting his fingers in an attempt not to fidget. "Kate, after this year of working with you... I know we've had our ups and downs, but I care about you and-"

"Castle," she interrupts, lifting one of her hands to stop him before scraping it through her hair. "That's - very sweet, but I just don't think... I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Why not?" he can't help asking, knowing he's only driving her back further into her shell, but his disappointment, desperation for an actual answer, persist.

"Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me these last few weeks, but I think us living together-"

"That's not why," he huffs, squaring his jaw against the surprising wave of hurt, the intensity of the rejection swelling through his chest. "I've enjoyed having the chance to spend more time with you outside of work, but I've wanted - I've wanted this for a long time, Beckett. I just thought the holiday provided a good opportunity to show you."

She looks like an animal, beautiful but frightened and caged in the corner of her father's modest kitchen, and like any wild thing would at the first sign of danger, Kate Beckett makes her move and runs from him.

Kate sits back against the headboard of her childhood bed only a few minutes later, her knees to her chest and her head against the wall, heart in her throat.

She feels like an ass; she hadn't meant to just brush past him like that, abandon him in the kitchen with that crestfallen expression she hates carved into his face while she sought solace in her old bedroom without another word. He'd just... taken her off guard, as he had been for the last two weeks, last few months, if she was being honest with herself.

Staying in the loft with him, his family, had provided her with a comfort she had never fathomed finding, a sense of security that helped her sleep at night, even when the nightmares of flames and serial killers haunted her dreams. She had developed a soft spot for the man she witnesses in worn t-shirts and jeans more often than not now, who devotes every spare moment to making his daughter smile, who works harder than he will ever admit to ensure his mother's happiness, to provide Kate with her own even when it's not his responsibility, his right.

And that's what scares her the most, isn't it? How he provides her with far more happiness than she'd ever wanted, how her haste to leave the loft has stalled, the idea of an apartment without him in it suddenly less appealing.

How her heart soared and shook all at once when Castle essentially told her that he wanted to be her valentine.

Kate unfurls her legs from their curled position against her sternum, shudders at the loss of body heat, her room cut off from the source of heat the fire provided in the living room. She has no idea what to say to him, words have never been her specialty and he knows it, but he had apparently made plans to charm her tonight, to show her what he wanted, how he wanted her, and he deserved better than the silent treatment.

He sips idly at his coffee, the bitter liquid still steaming and burning his tongue, numbing his tastebuds, but he hardly feels it.

He wants to go home, to not be stranded alone in a blizzard with a woman who flinches at the idea of a dinner date with him, and lick his wounds in private, not sit huddled in front of a fire, worried if she's warm enough in that tiny bedroom he saw when they'd first arrived.

"Castle?"

His eyes ascend from the flicker of the flames to see her standing closer than he'd expected, her fingers fidgeting at her sides and her bottom lip held hostage between her teeth again. She had shed her coat after they'd managed to coax the fire into a low roar earlier and she's wearing a warm black sweater that he knows feels heavenly to the touch because he's washed it before with his laundry, her hair has dried from the damp touch of snow, gentle waves around the harsh bones of her cheeks, soothing the cutting angles of her face, reminding him of the woman who comes home to him, who helps him with dinner and his daughter with her Latin homework, who shoots him dazzling smiles he'd never fathomed her capable of.

She looks so much softer like this, when she allows the Kate side to Beckett to be on display.

"Here," he murmurs, standing from his spot on the couch and grabbing a few of the throw blankets they had dug out of the trunk in her dad's room. "You're probably freezing. And you haven't eaten since lunch. I saw a few cans of soup in your dad's pantry and the gas stove still works-"

"Rick," she sighs, venturing deeper into the living room, towards him. "I'm sorry I ruined Valentine's Day for you."

He laughs, startled and a little bitter, but quickly waves her off. "Don't worry about it, Beckett. We can just - forget any of this ever happened, okay?"

"That's not what I-"

"Honestly, I think it'd be easier on both of us if we just didn't talk about it," he sighs, damn near pleading with her, because the last thing he wants is her pity, for her to let him down easy. "I'm actually really tired," he lies, sort of. "I can help you with dinner, but if you'd rather do it yourself, I'm just going to lie down, maybe nap for a bit."

He feels her stare on his shoulders for a long moment as he drops the blankets back to the couch, follows them down to the cushioning at her lack of reply.

"I'll wake you when it's ready," is all she says and Castle simply nods his acknowledgement, wishing more than anything that he'd left well enough alone, left their friendship in the perfect shape it was in before he'd tried to mold it into more.

Kate mulls over her options while she stirs a pot of chicken noodle soup over the flame of the stove, not very romantic and she isn't even hungry, her stomach heavy like a stone. Evening is turning to night and she's exhausted, frustrated and confused over Castle - not for the first time either - and she's torn between finding a place to sleep and waking him up, demanding they talk about this before their partnership suffers because of it.

She lowers the ladle she had been using, cuts the soup that has already begun to boil over the stove's flame, and returns to the living room where he lies before the fire, a blanket draped along his body and tucked beneath his chin, a frown etched deep into his lips. He looks cold and sad and absolutely miserable, even in his sleep, and she just wants to fix it, for both of them.

"Castle," she murmurs, dipping her knee into the edge of the couch near his hip. He hums, but doesn't wake, and she snags a blanket of her own from the arm of the sofa at his feet, nudges him with her thigh. "Scoot over."

"What're you doing, Beckett?" he grunts, complying nonetheless and shifting sideways to make room.

"I'm cold," she huffs, settling into the strip of space against his side as his eyes flutter open, squint back at her in confusion.

"I can get up, move to the recliner and let you have-"

"Castle, will you shut up and keep me warm?" she mutters, not allowing him an option as she continues to curve into his side, her knee sliding over his thigh to fit on the sofa with him. He's stiff beside her, not even breathing from the feel of it, but Kate only adjusts the blanket around her shoulders and forces him to roll from his back to his side until they're practically face to face.

"Kate?" he murmurs, one of his hands finally rising to tentatively cup her shoulder.

"Not an extravagant Valentine's Day date," she muses quietly, diverting her eyes to his chin. "But it's all I can give you right now, Castle."

"You're... I'm lost," he gets out, but his hand is growing more confident at her shoulder, journeying to her back, flirting just below her nape and brushing along the loose curls of her hair.

Kate purses her lips, tries to determine the best way to say it, to make him understand. "I would have said yes, to the date with you. I would have been willing to see where it went from there, I would have bet that... that we probably would have ended up in a similar position by the time the night was over."

His breath has definitely left him now, his chest still against the hand she's slid upwards to hook in the collar of his sweater, and when she risks a glance upwards, his lips are parted, eyes bright blue like the flames of the fire at her back.

"This means... you want to be my valentine, Beckett?"

She huffs a laugh, relief flooding her lungs at the sight of a smile blooming across his lips.

"Sure, Castle," she concedes, tugging on his shirt and arching her neck to taste the smile on his mouth. "I'll be your valentine."

The whisper of a touch at her neck, the descent of a feathering kiss to her shoulder and the heat of an embrace from behind, drawing her deeper into the welcome inferno of warmth amidst the cold has her humming awake. Her eyes open to the embers of the dying fire, streaks of daylight across the hardwood floor, and she shifts within their nest of blankets to glance over her shoulder, see Castle's dopey grin awaiting her.

Kate huffs a laugh and drops her head back to the bicep that had been pillowing her temple. "Morning."

"Happy post-Valentine's Day morning," he corrects, his voice a pleasant husk in her ear that sends a spiral of heat down her spine, coiling around each bone of her vertebrae.

"Live up to your hopes?"

"My hopes, my dreams, my fantasies," he muses, and she her eyes roll even as her cheeks heat. "Though, I still intend to take you on that date I planned yesterday and woo you beyond belief."

Kate repositions onto her side to face him in the early morning light, the winter sun breaching the grey sky and caressing the side of his face, and lifts onto her elbow, smirks down at him. "You don't have to woo me. You already have me."

His palm settles at the small of her back beneath the blanket they share, the warmth of his hand heating her flesh as his fingers splay across her tailbone. "Still want to charm the hell out of you, Kate Beckett. Show you just how good it can be."

She shakes her head, slides her leg over his thighs and rises to sit astride his hips in a straddle, bows her spine to press her bare chest to his, feel the accelerating thrum of his heart as it seals against hers.

"I already know," she assures him, bracing one of her hands beside his head, using the other to cradle his jaw. "Already had a decent idea before."

Castle's hand curves at the base of her skull, fingers tangling in her hair as his nose nudges her cheek and his breath stains her lips. "Does this mean you'll stay a few more weeks at the loft?"

Her lashes catch in his when she rolls her eyes, but she grins against his lips, sighs into his kiss. "Convince me."