A/N: SO SAPPY OMG. This just kind of got away from me, I THINK I JUST NEEDED SOME OF THIS. There will probably be a not sappy part two though, just in case you want to be on the look out for that.

you can tell me the story of how you missed me
that the silence was making you uneasy
no escape - civalias

Beckett shuffles from foot to foot in front of his door. It's kind of late, later than she's ever come over unannounced, later than is really socially acceptable but she can't get her own voice out of her head. Can't get what if I waited too long out. Her blood is hot, desperate, screaming. For him, because of him, just him.

She put her job on the line and at the time it seemed like a step, but in the cold darkness of her apartment she couldn't be sure he got the message, couldn't be sure he caught the look in her eye, partners. Again, still, always.

Yours, mine, ours.

She gulps.

She needs to do this, she misses him.

One knock and then she's fisting her hands in her coat pockets, waiting for him. Waiting like he's waited for so long. She's wearing a loose fitting blouse, one that has these tiny buttons all down the front and they tickle the bare skin of her abdomen as she fidgets, waits some more. It feels like an eternity before the door swings wide and there he is, hair ruffled and black v-neck tshirt pulling pleasantly across his chest.

"Hi," she says, shrugging even though she doesn't really know why. It's like her entire existence in relation to him is a question right now. Do you still…?

"Beckett." He's surprised, but his eyes look so much warmer than they have in weeks and she almost breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sorry to just…" she trails off, not moving to cross the threshold.

"No, no. Come in?"

So many questions.

She follows his extended arm until she's firmly ensconced in his living room, warm lighting revealing no one else.

"Alexis and mother are in bed already," he explains without her even having to ask. At least it's not all gone, she thinks.

Her eyes cut to him as she squeezes the insides of her pockets, soft silk crushed between her fingers and something else, something cardboard and square and an excuse. He's waiting and this is her go, so she pulls her hand out of her pocket.

"I brought you something," she blurts, tossing him the half smashed box in her hand.

He catches it rather smoothly, holding it up with a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.


She shrugs again. "I figured you might need some since you got…Slaughtered." He laughs at her joke and she wants to climb inside of the sound of it, it's been so long.

"Funny." She rolls her eyes a little bit and tilts her head back and forth, plays at being cocky but it doesn't quite stand up to her usual and she's sure he can tell. "It was just the nose though, and a bruise thing on the back of my shoulder, no major bodily harm." He rolls said shoulder at the mention of it, winces slightly as he does and then she takes a step closer to him.

"Let me see," she says before she really realizes what she's doing, reaching for the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes widen in surprise.

"I'm fine Beckett, it's just a bruise. I can handle it."

"Just let me look at it."

"You're offending my manly sensibilities."

She snorts like he's supposed to be some kind of macho man, poking him in his shoulder and watching him squeak and twist away from her. His look is more injured pride than injured skin.

"Fine," he sighs, moving to lift his tshirt up in the back. She helps him push it up, fingers dragging against his skin and the soft cotton of the shirt and she can feel him trying not to shiver at the sensation of it. The bruise is pretty high up on his shoulder blade, already purple around the edges with a nasty red line down the middle. He definitely hit something hard.

"Does it hurt?" she asks absently as she uses the hand not holding his shirt up to lightly trace around the edges. He hisses sharply at the press of her finger but she's not touching anywhere that should hurt badly enough to elicit that kind of response. Her heart starts beating faster.

"Just when you poke it." She really does roll her eyes then, but his voice is dry and tight and she is growing increasingly aware of what it is exactly that they are doing in the middle of his living room.

"Give me one of those bandaids." She holds her hand out over his arm, palm up.

He grumbles but doesn't argue, ripping into the box. She can feel him pause when he realizes what kind she's brought him.

"Are these Green Lantern bandaids?" He sounds like a five year old at the grocery store. "What I want to know is – " he pauses to peel the paper off, passing her back the sticky bandaid, " – did you buy these for me or did you already have them?"

She grins as she presses the adhesive to his skin, gently smoothing with her fingers and then lets his shirt slide back downward. "I'll never tell," she leans up to breathe in his ear, chest barely brushing his back. She can feel him shiver and it's almost like old times. He turns around quickly then, catching her off guard because he's suddenly really, really close and this isn't old times at all.

He holds her gaze for a moment and she can feel him trying to figure her out. "Why are you here?" he breathes into the space between them, and it's so heavy she can hardly swallow past the thick knot of absolutely everything in her throat.

Do it do it do it, she chants to herself.

Instead of answering, she takes the box of bandaids from his hand, holding eye contact until she has to reach down to pull the paper off. He's all furrowed, confused brow but she doesn't know how to say this so she's going to try and show him. The box slides back into her pocket as she peels back the paper, first one bandaid and then another, green and loud and ridiculous but also perfect, and then she's reaching out across the small amount of distance between them, sticking one to his shirt right over the left side of his chest.

"Beckett," he exhales as she crosses the other one to make an X, both right over where his heart is beating out a rapid rhythm underneath.

"I don't know how to fix this," she says, voice stuck and thick and heavy, her finger pointing at the this she means.

He grabs her wrist, the one with still lingering fingers and then she finally looks up at him, flattens her palm against him completely, feeling the bandaids and his increasing pulse across her skin.

"I miss you." Her voice is so soft, so stuck in her throat that she's surprised he can hear her at all, but he suddenly pulls her into a crushing hug and she can barely keep down the gasping sob that wants to come spilling out of her chest.

His mouth is by her ear then, fingers tangled roughly in her hair, knotting she's sure but she hardly cares. "What are you doing?" he asks and she can hear the strain in the notes of his voice, cracked and guarded and she did this.

She suddenly feels desperate for him to understand, for him to forgive her and so she leans back just enough to grab the sides of his head and pull his gaze to her own. Both of their eyes are more than a little bit watery.

"I'm trying to tell you…" she trails off, wants to stomp her foot in frustration at her own limitations. "Me too," she finally blurts. He looks confused and she steps closer, pressing herself entirely against him, hoping to erase his doubts in any way she can think of, takes a deep breath and then doesn't stop talking for anything. "I heard you Castle, I heard you, when I got shot and I'm sorry, I am so sorry for not being ready then, and for needing so much time and for not telling you and I just, me too Castle. I…" she stutters to a stop arching into him because she can't get close enough and she just wishes he could feel what she's feeling and know.

He swallows the rest of her sentence with his mouth though, me too apparently enough for him, and then she's inhaling sharp and acute through her nose as his kiss presses her into another plane of existence all together because fuck. The buttons on her shirt are digging in hard now, the light brush of them outside his door lost to the urgent press of his chest and his stomach, he's entirely clutching her and she never wants him to let go. He does though, as abruptly as he latched on and then he's just grasping her face, holding her there, panting.

"Are you sure?" he gasps, out of breath and bright with her. Her fingers move down to clutch at the material of his shirt at his shoulders, skirting his injury and then smooth down over the little green lantern rectangles she left to claim him.

"Yes. Yes Castle, yes." He lurches forward for her again, capturing her lips over and over, quick, shallow little tugs and she's laughing suddenly as his face breaks into a grin and then he's mouthing across her jaw and down her neck and hugging her to him and whispering things in her ear she's wanted to hear for so long, for days for weeks for always.

I missed you too.