Dear Faithful readers, Help me, I've fallen into the angst and can't get up. I blame lack of promos. xo

Everything seemed to come in on a four count for him. Four years he's waited for her. Four times he's told her he loved her. Four seconds until he caught his breath when she threw herself at him, stroked his face with her fingers, breathed her four words of repentance. Four. Yeah, his magic number is four.

And four years ago he'd never have believed it. He'd been cocky, so sure he'd get what he'd wanted from her . . . eventually. Boldly propositioned her. Fed his own ego even when she wouldn't. Justified himself when it worked for him. Tried to make her uncomfortable, make her notice him. Like a schoolboy who has a crush on his teacher. He just never expected her to call him on it. Never expected that he'd want to do better by her.

And he'd watched her from the beginning. The one thing he knew got under her skin, the staring. It was always a reminder to reel it in, these feelings for her that were beginning to show, to peek out from under the shallow exterior that he'd been presenting as long as he could remember. He was sweet in a world that wasn't, not easy for a man. Better to be shallow, better to hide it, better to put it away.

But then, her.

He'd shared so much with her, unwittingly. He'd let his heart slip to her. About Alexis, about his mother, his friends, his life. She played it close to the vest, so he had to work at it. Reveal so much of himself so she'd reveal a nugget of her. He was supposed to be exploring her character, her inner-Nikki, instead she was exploring his. Not his Rick Castle. His inner Richard Alexander Rogers. And she had him. She so had him.

Four close calls this year. A bullet, a tiger, the icy Hudson, and a freakin' zombie. Four was still working it's magic. Four friends, four team-mates still working it out, still enjoying the job. It's the best he's ever felt. He belongs. Only in relation to Alexis has he ever felt this way. He's part. He's needed.

And now her.

They'd gone four rounds, never would have guessed that on the first time. Definitely a magic number. And now she's sated and he's done that to her. And he feels cocky about that too. In the good kind of way. In the way she'd support. That's how he knows it's the good kind of way. Her four limbs are splayed over him, her riot of hair tickles his bare chest as he strokes her lightly with his fingers. He figures she can't mind what she isn't awake to notice, so staring is okay. For now it's just him.

But later it will be them.

'I just want you,' she had said, and he's still wondering if he imagined it. But she'd proved it to him, this beautiful goddess of a woman warming the side of his body and all of his heart. She'd come and she'd kissed him first. He never thought that would happen. It doesn't seem condescending to say he's proud of her. He's always been proud of her, told her he admired her strength, feels the surge of pride whenever he introduces her, but this goes beyond breaking down walls. Did Kate Beckett just jump the ruins of that wall for him? Even in Nikki Heat he'd always imagined it was Rook seducing Nikki. He doesn't care, not about Nikki, not about Rook, not about the precinct, the world.

He just wants her too.

Just the thought alone makes him want to wake her up, demonstrate his total adoration of her, again. Love her physically and spiritually. Look into her eyes and see into her soul, let her see into his. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, and he suddenly gets why people want to wait until the wedding night. The way that the earth just shook? The ecstasy they'd both just experienced? That wasn't normal, that was, well, that was extraordinary. He smiles to himself thinking of that word that he's always used to describe her. She's that, but together?

Together he doesn't even have words.

He really hopes she is content to cuddle for a long time this morning because he doesn't want this moment to end. The fantasy world that he's created for them in his mind never let him imagine a morning after scenario and he's suddenly terrified. He can imagine a life together with her, but their first morning? How should that go? He already knows she needs coffee first thing, and that's when she's already meeting at a scene. Oh, he probably should be careful not to push her into too much thinking too early. He's dying to ask her questions though, questions he hopes she'll not only stick around to answer, but that she'll want to answer before he asks.

That's right, he pulls bends his neck to kiss her head, now that you let me in, I want it all.

Like she's reading his mind in her sleep she twitches and adjusts slightly. She's so beautiful. Inside and out, so devastatingly beautiful.

He thinks about how far they've come. All his years of faith coming down to this quiet moment. No hindrances, just the sweet sound of her breathing. At peace.

He wonders what she will be like on a normal evening, when they are done with a case and they aren't going to the Old Haunt or eating out. Will she hold his hand? Will she curl up on the couch with him when they watch a movie? Will she crawl into his bed tomorrow night? Will she want him to make love to her every night? Will they leave for crime scenes together this week? How will they tell Alexis? Martha? Oh god, her father? Maybe he should stop asking questions.

He doesn't want to wake her up, but oh, he wants to wake her up, make her tell him everything they are going to be together. Show her again how much he meant his words.

There are some things he wants to do for her, things she would never allow before, but now, maybe? She's not so materialistic, he knows that, but flowers? Bearclaw bouquets? Ha, yeah, he could totally do that. She doesn't take care of herself well, he knows that, he's done what he could over the years, what she's let him do, but now maybe he can do more. No more of this sleeping in the break-room and surviving on caffeine. He's got to get some plans together, he's played on the line of these plans for years, but now she's committed to him on some level, he's can't wait for the give and take. He's got a lot more to give.

He'll be good to her, for her. He just hopes he's good enough for her. Oh, he should think of the ending, he is an author, after all, how does he want this to go? How does he go about solving this new mystery, or at the very least unraveling it enough to not have this relationship end the way the others have? He likes to think those weren't completely his fault, but still, two failed marriages. That's a part of his life that isn't cute, isn't charming.

Where will they be four months from now? Four years from now?

He can't think about that right now, and even though his mind is going a hundred miles an hour he knows he can't focus on this, he's just got to focus on tomorrow, on waking up, with her. With his Kate. She's his. Finally.

It's like he's a child, waiting for Christmas morning. Waiting to unwrap them. See what they'll become, where they go from here.

And then she surprises him with four magic words of her own. Her gift to him. Mumbled but coherent, accompanied by a contented sigh.

"I love you Castle."