I've had no motivation for writing lately, and I'm doing horribly on my NaNoWriMo word count. So when I miraculously had some inspiration for this, I decided to grab it and run with it. Hopefully it will spur on my motivation for my own NaNoWriMo work.
Background: First, this is a fluffy one-shot. Second, this is a post-ep fic for 5X06, The Final Frontier (and I think it could even be considered canon). As such, there are some spoilers for this episode. I liked the show, but I didn't love the show like I thought I would. While I love the banter and level of comfort our DD has with each other now, I, like some others out there, would like just a bit more romance; not necessarily making out, but just...alone time. Cuddle time. Some uncomfortable moments where they go, 'wow, should we be talking about that yet?' (which is where I thought the kids talk should have went). Just a thing where they're both thinking more long-term, but neither wants to admit it yet. And that, in itself, could be kind of funny, and could be a lot like the first 3 seasons, where they denied the attraction even though they were both thinking it; now it would just be on a different level.
There is also one itty-bitty reference to a tidbit of information that was released about 5X10.
Disclaimer: I think I'm supposed to put this in here, but really, isn't it obvious that I don't own these characters?
Morning one:
Kate awoke to the feeling of soft lips giving her cheek a light kiss, while fingers traced her other cheek lightly. She stretched in the bed, a smile forming on her lips before she even opened her eyes. And when her eyes finally did flutter open, she saw the sight that she expected: Castle gazing down at her, blue eyes bright, crooked but sexy smile on his face. "Good morning," he murmured before touching his lips to hers.
"Morning." Then she took note of his bright eyes, and asked, "What time is it?"
"Still early, don't worry. I've just been up for a bit because I had to make good on my promise." He sat up more and gestured down to the tray that he'd set on the floor next to the bed. "Breakfast in bed is served."
"Really? Oh." Then she remembered one of the parts of their Nebula 9 deal, one that he'd suggested. Breakfast in bed. For a week. She really didn't expect a full week, but hey, one day was nice. And she knew she should really be thankful for even one day, after donning that Creaver mask the night before and scaring the crap out of him. "Uh, okay. Let me sit up a little more. And what are you feeding me today, Mr. Castle?"
"Bacon and eggs. And I got a new blend of coffee; you'll have to tell me what you think of it."
She sat up and positioned herself in the bed as he put the tray over her legs and then walked around to his side of the bed. He crawled in gingerly, so as to not upset the tray.
"Two plates?" she asked, eyeing the double serving on the tray.
"Couldn't let you eat alone," he told her, sidling up to her and slipping an arm around her back. As she settled against him, he remarked, "Oh, and I started your laundry with your clothes from yesterday. Laundry was part of the bet, you know."
"So it was ..." she observed, a bit impressed that he'd remembered that, although she'd never admit that. "But don't think that one breakfast and some laundry gets you out of that Nebula 9 marathon."
"Why, Detective Beckett, the thought never crossed my mind! I will sit with you and watch it, all of those long, tedious, badly scripted episodes ..."
"Without making fun of it."
"As long as we can cuddle, then I wouldn't dream of making fun of it," he agreed. "Anymore."
And they both enjoyed her first breakfast in bed, although she did glare at him when a piece of egg fell off of his fork onto her shoulder before he could get it to his mouth.
Morning two:
"You're seriously testing me here," he yelled from her kitchen. "How am I supposed to make you breakfast in bed when your food offerings are...less than plentiful, shall we say?"
"Hey, I don't have a personal shopper like some people," she yelled back
"It's not a personal shopper. It's a delivery service. I told you, you should really get that app. You could have everything delivered."
"I'd still have to be home to let them in," she replied, padding into the kitchen, wearing an old t-shirt.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, catching sight of her. "You're supposed to be in bed! I can't serve you breakfast in bed if you're not in bed!"
Without replying, she walked over to a cupboard and took out a box of granola cereal before shoving it at his chest. "Here. Stop whining about my food supply. I know there's milk. You know where the bowls are." And then she walked back into the bedroom.
Five minutes later, he walked back into the bedroom and handed her a bowl of cereal. "This is so not what I had in mind. This is ... not worthy of the pomp and circumstance that is inherent in the term 'breakfast in bed'. This is what you eat when you're watching TV. And you don't even have a tray!"
"Well, if you think I need a tray, my birthday is coming up," she suggested between bites.
He gave her a disgusted look. "For your birthday? Never. I have something much better in mind for that. I did have some hints, you know," he said with a knowing grin. And she knew what he was talking about.
It was an offhand comment during the toughest and most personal case they'd worked since they'd been dating, and she was surprised that he'd remembered. She probably shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. And it warmed her a little bit inside to know that even in the midst of all of that, he'd still filed away that little tidbit about her, had remembered that little thing that she'd said.
Morning three:
"French toast?"
"You don't like French toast?" he looked a bit worried, as if he'd just committed a major faux pas.
"No. I mean yes, French toast is fine. I was just surprised. You've made everything under the sun, it seems, at one time or another, but I don't ever remember you making French toast."
"Really? Oh. Well, you know, the bread has to be just right. If it's too fresh, it gets soggy. It has to be just at the right age. There's a very specific window of time, you know. And if it's not the right kind of bread, well, then you end up with something that even Ryan and Esposito wouldn't eat. It's all about timing and circumstances being favorable."
"Come on, Castle, it's french toast. You dunk some bread in some eggs. You toss it on a griddle. Not hard. And it's not like the age of the bread needs to be plotted like ... like you plot when the best time is to conceive a baby or something like that."
It just seemed like the best analogy at the time to use when comparing the bread with something that people purposely spend a lot of time plotting and planning, and it had just slipped out. But she heard how it came out, or at least how it could be interpreted. Especially after her question during the last case about him having more kids. And she froze. They were not anywhere near the point where they should be having any semblance of a discussion about this. She mentally prepared herself for evasion.
But when she finally dared to look at him, he was just gazing back at her with a small smile on his face. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, "people do tend to plot the best time for that. And sometimes it just happens. And it happened that the bread was just right for French toast this morning. It was kind of a surprise, because I was only going to make regular toast with it. But then ... " He shrugged. "Well, it became a happy accident. Sometimes you can't plan everything. But that doesn't mean that the outcome doesn't turn out just as good, right?"
She knew there was a whole other meaning to his words. Probably a few other meanings. But she got it. She nodded slowly.
"I do like French toast, you know," he continued, "even though I don't make it very much. Now, we should probably get this settled for future ... breakfasts. You like French toast too, don't you? You know, where you might want...French toast...in the future sometime?"
Oh, yes, they were definitely speaking on two different levels. But they were speaking perfectly, the way they did best.
"Yes, Castle, I do like French toast. And after today, assuming you keep cooking," she said with a raised eyebrow, indicating that she was on board with their game of double-entendres, "I think I'd like French toast at some point in the future."
And they both gave each other little grins before digging into the real French toast, knowing that they'd just sort of gotten a pretty important topic out of the way, without really having an embarrassing or too-soon-for-the-relationship type of talk. Life was good, and they were still very much ... them.
Morning four:
She walked out of the bedroom, pulling on one of Castle's old sweatshirts over the pants that she'd worn the day before. Castle saw her and said "Nooooo! Go back to bed! Kate, we covered this a couple of days ago! You have to be in bed to have breakfast in bed!"
"Castle, I need to get to work. I wasn't even supposed to stay here last night."
"But you had to! I have to cook you breakfast." He glanced at the stove. "And look, it's almost done." He swooped down to give her a kiss, and then turned on his puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Kate. I promised. I want to keep my promises."
She gave him a long look and scrunched up her face, considering his plea. "Fine. But make it quick. I still have to go home and shower."
"You could shower here."
"And smell like a manly man from your body wash? No thanks. I'll use my own stuff in my own shower, thank you. But after I eat." And she strode back to the bedroom while he plated her omelette, a smile on his face.
Morning five:
She yawned as she stretched in her bed. She heard the footsteps on her floor before she even opened her eyes. "So what do you have for me today?" So far, he'd kept true to his word, even seeming a bit eager to fulfill his end of the agreement of breakfast in bed. And she actually found that she kind of liked the special attention in the mornings, although she may never admit to him just how much she was coming to enjoy it.
"Well, considering we're at your place, and you have nothing but breakfast in a box, I took the liberty of stopping at a bakery yesterday. We now have some of the best cinnamon rolls that you will ever have in your life."
She yawned before sitting up and telling him, "So you're disparaging my cereal—which I'll have you know is organic and high fiber, by the way—and you're giving me something decidedly unhealthy, full of sugar and probably laced with ... " She trailed off as Castle put the plate in front of her and she got a whiff of the tantalizing smell of the cinnamon wafting from the warm rolls. She looked down and saw the huge roll, with the gooey frosting melting off the top. On the side of the plate was a banana.
"See, there's a banana too. That's healthy. So if you don't want this warm, gooey cinnamon roll, then I suppose I could be kind and eat it for you."
She only glared at him as she held out her hand for the plate.
"Ah, she sees reason," he quipped as he handed her the plate. "And I suppose the irresistible smell of all of that warm, cinnamony gooeyness didn't hurt either."
"Don't gloat while I'm ingesting this much sugar, Castle."
"Why not?"
She gave him a sultry look. "Because then I'll have to find some other way to work off all of this extra ..." she licked some frosting off of her top lip, "sugar."
The smile dropped off his face. "Some other way?"
Kate nodded. "Uh huh. I thought you could help me ... exercise. When I'm done with this. Before work."
"Before work?" he squeaked.
"Uh huh." She nodded and then licked some of the cream cheese frosting off her finger.
"I won't gloat."
Morning six:
She didn't have to go to work that day, so she slept in late. Well, it was late for her anyway. She was barely awake, but she didn't open her eyes, instead just opting to lounge around, utterly content, against those oh-so-comfortable pillows of his that she'd melted into. It was so nice to wake like this, slowly, knowing that he would be there and that she could just relax with Castle all day. Before too long, she heard the door open and she could sense his footsteps as they moved closer to the bed. Maybe she'd let him think she was still asleep. Maybe she'd see how he tried to wake her up this morning. Sometimes he found the most delicious ways to wake her up.
Maybe she could surprise him.
She felt a finger trace around her face, down her neck and over one of her arms. His touch was gentle, yet arousing. He did that so well. She worked to keep her face slack, to not give away that she was awake. She would love to surprise him. And she knew that he would love to be surprised, at least with that kind of a suprise.
But when she opened her eyes, ready to throw him down on the side of the bed and attack him, she found that she was the one who was surprised.
And she screamed and instinctively jumped back as far as she could against the pillows.
Because when she opened her eyes, she didn't find Castle on the bed next to her.
Instead, she found a Creaver.
Once she realized, after a few very long seconds of heart-pounding fear, that Castle was just wearing that Creaver mask, she narrowed her eyes at him and then gave a mighty shove at his chest with both hands, which sent him sprawlng on the end of the bed, almost toppling off the end.
"Castle!" she shouted at him. "What the hell?"
He struggled to right himself on the bed, taking care to stay out of reach of Kate. He pulled off the Creaver mask to reveal his smiling, but somewhat stunned face. "Man, I forget how strong you can be." As he struggled with a couple of deep breaths—she'd surprised him too with the mighty shove she'd given him—he got a good look at her. Her hair was tousled and she was sitting up, chest heaving as she tried to get her heart rate back to normal. She wasn't naked, but since she was wearing that slinky black nightie that he loved, it was almost just as good. "God, you're hot," was all he could think to say.
"Well you're insane! What the hell were you thinking, letting that be the first thing I saw when I woke up!" It wasn't so much a question as a statement.
"What's wrong, Beckett? Can't take the sight of a little Creaver? I could put the mask back on and we could make out." He was, of course, referring directly to what she'd said after she surprised him wearing that same mask, and he couldn't resist letting her know that this was a little payback for her stunt days ago. "But really, I was thinking that this was the perfect way to start our Nebula 9 marathon day. Get you into the Nebula 9 mood."
"Seeing that thing, I can tell you that watching Nebula 9 will be the only thing that I'll be in the mood for," she told him with a raised eybrow.
But for once, he ignored her as he tossed the mask in the corner and got up to retrieve a platter that he'd set down. "Look at this!"
"After the Creaver mask, you'd better tell me exactly what I'm supposed to look at, or no dice."
"Well, it's the next element of our Nebula 9 day, and if you must know, it's a galaxy."
"A galaxy?"
"Yeah. It's a pancake galaxy!" And he presented the platter to her with a flourish.
There was a large pancake in the middle, which had to be the sun. And then, there were eight other pancakes of varying sizes around the pancake sun, which had to represent the planets. He had some ultra-mini pancakes that were smaller than the size of a pencil eraser, and they were artfully arranged around the planets, obviously representing their moons. Saturn even had a ring, and it looked like melted chocolate chips.
She couldn't believe the work that must have gone into this.
"Sorry it's not to scale," Castle started explaining. "But the sun is just so huge, and I don't have a platter that large. And those moons ... man, they were not easy! They're so tiny! And then I was debating about Pluto. I mean, I know it's not technically a planet, but I've always felt a little bit sorry for it. I mean, how can it be a planet one day and then it's like, 'oh, I'm sorry, I guess you're not a planet after all'. How is that fair? I mean, it's—"
"Castle."
He stopped his monologue and looked back at her, and she now had none of the earlier Creaver annoyance on her face. "Thank you," she said. "This is really sweet."
"You like the galaxy? I know it's not where Nebula 9 was supposed to be, and of course, the earth wouldn't even be there if it was the real Nebula 9 ..."
"I like it," she said again softly, and he grinned. "But there's a problem. I almost feel guilty eating it."
He thought for a moment. It really was pretty cool. "Let's take a picture of it. And I can tweet the picture later. Then we can eat it, and we can make some more suns and planets with the rest of the batter."
Him and his tweeting. But she knew that he wouldn't tweet anything about her. "Deal," she told him. "Now how about a good morning kiss, without the Creaver mask?"
Morning seven:
His arm was heavy over her stomach, and she knew he was still sleeping. And that felt odd, after so many days of him being up before her with the breakfast bet. Of course she liked this, with him by her, but she wondered if all of the getting up before her was starting to take a toll on him.
All of a sudden his arm tightened around her and he pulled her against him. "Morning," he said sleepily.
"Morning, sunshine."
"Lemme know when you wanna eat," he murmured into her neck.
"Castle, look, if you're tired, that's fne. You don't have to make anything."
"I did already. Just have to heat them up."
"You did? Heat what up?"
"Breakfast. Made it earlier. Don't worry. Just let me know when you're hungry. And for now, I just want to lay here with you. 'S nice."
But it felt ... odd. Because they hadn't even done anything the night before; they'd just crawled into bed and had started talking. Neither drifted off to sleep or even initiated continuing the 'conversation' in a more non-verbal way. They just talked. She tried to formulate some words to go with her thoughts, but all that came out was, "I still have clothes on."
She could feel him raise up on one elbow so he could look down at her. He looked so serious, and not sleepy anymore. "And we didn't do anything last night, either. Kate, you don't have to be naked and driving me wild for me to enjoy spending time with you. You know I like that, but I was around you for a long time before we ever progressed to the naked part." He tapped her head. "This is what kept me around for all of that time. Now, don't get me wrong; I really do like the sex. But sex or not, I'm glad you're here and I'm going to enjoy whatever it is that we happen to be doing. Okay?"
She relaxed a bit, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She nodded slightly and he settled back down onto the pillows. "So does that mean you're admitting that you enjoyed the Nebula 9 marathon yesterday, since you watched it with me?" she asked sweetly.
There was a pause before he responded, "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"Sure did. But no takebacks now, Castle."
"I'm done talking. Breakfast?" And with that, he scurried out of the bed and into the kitchen.
A mere five minutes later, he came back with the tray, piled high with a pyramid of ... something. "What is that?" she asked as she sat up and assumed her 'breakfast-in-bed' position.
"Mini quiches. All different kinds. We have some with spinach and peppers, some with meat, some with cheese, some with everything ..."
Wow. "Castle ..."
His gaze flew to her face. "What? You don't like quiche?"
"No, quiche is good. I'm just ... you've really gotten into this bet, haven't you?"
He shrugged. "We have to eat. You know, they say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I did finally get to see you in your Lt. Chloe costume when you weren't doing the Creaver impersonation, after all. And, well, I promised you the week of breakfasts. And—"
"You like to keep your promises." She echoed what he'd said days earlier.
He smiled. "Exactly. Now are you ready to eat?"
Morning eight:
He awoke to a soft bite on his earlobe, followed by a soft kiss under his jawbone. "Hey, sleepyhead," she told him in a low voice. "I'm hungry."
In response, he pulled her mouth to his for a lazy kiss while he ran one of his hands over her bottom. "That was nice," she said when it was done, "but I really meant food. You slept in later this morning, and I have to get home so I can shower and get some fresh clothes before work. So where's my breakfast in bed? Get a move on, big guy," she chided with a smile and another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth.
Castle was surprised. She didn't know? She didn't realize that the last day of their bet was yesterday morning?
Well, that would explain why he didn't have to cajole her to stay with him last night, like he had to do several times. After doing some errands by herself in the afternoon, he was more than a little surprised when he'd found her at his door again later in the afternoon when she was finished with everything. He wasn't complaining. He loved it, how she came in and just assumed that they'd be spending the evening together, that she'd stay overnight.
And it also meant that she liked it; she liked the pampering, or the cooking, or even just staying over. She might not admit it, but he knew that she still liked something about their new little routine since the inception of the bet.
So he wasn't going to ruin that; he'd just casually point it out to her when it suited his purposes.
During breakfast, he casually suggested, "So why don't you just leave a couple of changes of clothes here? Get some extra shower stuff and leave it in my shower too. Then when you stay over, you can go straight to work. Save time." He casually took a bite of his toast.
She looked at him slowly, and he could see her eyes widen just a bit at his words. "I bring clothes sometimes, and you know I've showered here before."
"But that's when you bring your stuff and then you take it back home with you. I'm saying just bring some of your stuff over and leave it here. We can keep recycling the clothes, and you'll always have some clean clothes here."
"Like ... " She swallowed. "Castle, that sounds like ..." She couldn't say it, but she didn't need to. He knew what she was thinking. It sounded like moving in.
"Okay," he agreed, "Maybe a little bit. But it's just a few clothes and shampoo, and it's more of a convenience thing than anything. If you're here some night, then why should you have to go back to your place just to shower when I have a perfectly good shower here? Plus I'd always be willing to wash your back," he told her with a grin.
"Yeah. But it's more than that. I don't live here. I don't want to get too comfortable and just start taking over or something. Yes, I've been over here a lot because of the bet, but that was a temporary thing. But look, can we table this discussion for now? I have to get going."
"Wait just a minute," he said as he got up and scurried to his bedroom. True to his word, he came right back out, this time holding something in his arms. "Here," he said, handing the items to her. "You can just wear these clothes today."
She looked down and saw her clothes. "Castle, where did you—"
"Remember? I said I'd do your laundry. That first day of the bet, these are the clothes you had on. I washed them but you never took them home with you again. Now, see how convenient it is to have a change of clothes here?"
"But I ... "
"Don't even talk about shampoo. There's some in the guest bathroom that you can use until you bring some over here."
She glared at him, and he knew that look. He was getting around her objections, and she was trying to reason through more.
"And don't say you're not already comfortable here, because I know you are."
She crossed her arms. "Oh really. And how do you know that?"
And now, it suited his purposes.
"Because, Detective, you wouldn't be here right now if you weren't comfortable here. You are the one who decided to stay here. Now I'm not saying I have a problem with that at all. But it was your decision and your decision alone."
"Right, Castle. And it has nothing to do with someone who kept insisting that he just had to bring me breakfast in bed because of a bet, and pretty much implied it had to be here because he didn't like my cereal."
"No, you're right." He purposely misunderstood her sarcasm. "This morning has absolutely nothing to do with the bet. You're here because you wanted to be here. Know how I know that?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."
He leaned forward toward her face. "Because today is Morning eight."
"Morning eight?"
"Yes. Our bet was for seven days of breakfasts in bed, which I happily fulfilled. This morning, my dear Kate, is morning eight. Yesterday, quiche day, was the last day of the bet."
She stared at him, and he could see her trying to think back. He decided to help her, holding out his fingers as he counted the days. "The first day was bacon and eggs. Next was your cereal at your place, followed by, uh, French toast back here." He didn't know if he'd ever be able to say 'French toast' again without getting a little kick when he thought about their new special meaning. "Then you had an omelette, followed by the Morning Five cinnamon rolls back at your place. Next was the pancake galaxy, followed by our last, glorious day of mini-quiches. That would be seven days, Kate, or one week of breakfast in bed. Which finished yesterday."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, so I lost track. I owe you a day. Okay?"
He shook his head with a sly grin. "You lost track because you were comfortable here. You want to be here, at least sometimes, which is why keeping track didn't matter to you. That's why you came back last night instead of going to your place." He finished his statement and smiled a smug smile at her.
She only glared at him, trying to find something to refute what he'd said. But the truth of the matter was that she really had just unconsciously gone back to his loft, with the intent of staying over, because they'd already spent the past several nights together. She really wasn't even thinking about breakfast in bed. She'd just become accustomed to it, like she'd apparently become accustomed to spending her free time with him.
She tried for nonchalant. "We've been spending more time together lately. I just lost track of that. But Castle, that's no reason for me to start moving my stuff into your place!"
He took her hand. "Sure it is. It's practical too. We haven't had any middle-of-the-night bodies lately, but what if we did?"
"I'd just pack a bag, like I've already been doing when we plan ahead."
"What if you can't plan ahead? What if ... what if you go home some night and find out your building is infested with Argentinian Yellow Spotted Beetles and and it's being fumigated? And you can't go home for a few days. What will you do then?" He snapped his fingers. "Hey, I know! You could stay with me! Which works out really well, when, you know, you already have some clothes here."
"Castle ..." she started.
He stepped a bit closer and snaked his other arm around her waist. "Just do it. It makes sense," he told her softly, in the exact same voice he used when he was trying to convince her to listen to the supposed ramblings of the dead psychic. "Nothing big, not a lot of stuff. Couple of work outfits, comfy after-work clothes, maybe a couple of slinky nightgowns ..." He did nothing to hide the grin after he mentioned the slinky nightgowns.
"Argentinian Yellow Spotted Beetles?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Nasty little suckers."
She regarded him for a moment before she said cautiously, "Okay. But on one condition."
He looked a little worried. "Not more Nebula 9. Please."
"No Nebula 9. But if you want me to leave my stuff here, then you have to bring some of your stuff to leave at my place too."
He pretended to consider it. "You drive a hard bargain, Detective. But I accept. I just hope those Argentinian Yellow Spotted Beetles don't infest my boxers."
~End~
I spent way, way too many hours on this, and it turned out WAAAAYY longer thanI expcted, but I hope everyone enjoyed it.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated so I can find out what worked and what didn't, and so I won't regret giving up my NaNoWriMo time to write this instead. ;)
Have a good day/night!
