Story Dedication: To the people affected by the Paris/France tragedies. I hope everyone is doing okay. Sending thoughts and love from New Zealand.
Based off Stana's pictures in Paris.
He can smell the cherry scent that she usually leaves in her every wake.
It's faint, barely there, but oh so familiar. It leaves him burying his face into the cold pillow next to him, his morning stubble contrasting against the silky sheets.
The cool fabric of the pillow is the indication that she's no longer there; alerts his mind and leaves his fingers running along the sheets, seeking the warmth and comfort that she offers. But the warmth and comfort is nowhere to be found; only the bumps of the sheets are offered.
His eyes finally open to the pale white ceiling. It's cooler than it was last night, goosebumps travelling up his bare chest. But that might be because he was doing something completely different last night.
Castle's thoughts drift to the night's events, and he has to physically shake his head to clear them away. Now's probably not the best time to think about that.
He sits up with a yawn, his muscles stretching from their stiff position. His eyes drift around the room, picking up the small details that he would usually miss. There's faint noise floating in from the outside, a painting hanging near the ensuite door and– oh.
Castle sucks in a sharp breath, his gaze finally landing near the windows. His stare usually always gravitated to her; he's nearly always distracted by her. She has a habit of taking his breath away, leaving him speechless; a feat that's near impossible as a writer. But this– this makes his breath stutter, makes him need to gulp a breath down, because inhaling is too easy.
He's not sure if Kate Beckett intentionally tries to kill him.
She's standing with her back to him, arms crossed, eyes completely focused on the sight outside. And he knows from experience that it's a great sight, but this one's better.
The silky, purple robe finishishes high on Kate's thigh, the hem leaving a lot to the imagination, not that he minds. She's barefoot, hair thrown up into a mess bun, and– he doesn't think he's ever loved her so much.
There's something about the soft side of Kate Beckett that he absolutely adores. The days when takes of the heels, makeup and work clothes and just completely relaxes. Because Badass-Detective Beckett is amazing– sexy. But Kate...Kate's sensual and vulnerably and beautiful.
She hasn't turned around yet; either because she hasn't heard him or she was too intent on studying the view.
He doesn't mind too much; too enthralled by her beauty to think. It's when he shifts slightly that she turns, the white glow behind her illuminating her beauty further. Kate offers a smile, her tongue catching between her teeth.
She uncrosses her arms, moving closer to his side, and leaning down. Kate's lips melt against his, one hand resting on his cheek and the other flitting against his chest.
Castle can feel her warm breath wash over his lips and her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. It sends a tingling feeling through his body.
Kate pulls away, somehow ending up with her legs on his lap and body flushed with his. "Morning," she greets, snaking her arms Castle's waist.
"And what a morning greeting that was," Castle said breathlessly, leaning his head against the headboard.
Kate's laugh puffs against his neck. "Well I'm glad you enjoyed it."
They sit in comfortable silence, Castle brushing a thumb across the top of Kate's left hand. He brings the hand up to his lips, kissing her fourth finger.
"I love this," he murmurs.
"Love what?"
"This," he says, kissing the diamond band on her fourth finger. "The city, you." He finishes with a press of his lips to her hair.
Kate lets out a content sigh. "I love you too."
"How's the weather out there?" He blurts out, causing another laugh.
"Seriously?" Kate questions, pulling her head up with a teasing smile.
"What? It was raining last night, and I only have two more free days to spend with you," he replies.
"Well I guess we'll be spending it inside, because it's dreadful out there," she informs, pressing another kiss to his lips.
"I wouldn't mind spending the day inside."
"Me too." Kate pulls away, sliding back off the bed and on to her feet. "But as you said, you only have two more days, before you start the signings. So we are going to explore the city."
"But Kaaaateee," Castle whines. I want to spend the day with you. Inside. Preferably in a bed."
Kate leaned back down quickly. "The quicker we get out of here, the quicker we get back to bed." She pulled away, turning on her heel and making her way over to the ensuite. "I'm going to jump in the shower. You coming, Castle?"
Castle flipped the sheets off him quickly, following her into the bathroom. "I'm coming," he calls out to her.
Kate's only just turning on the shower when he enters, a boyish smile on his face. "Good, because Paris is a beautiful city."
"Not as beautiful as you," he comments, wrapping his hands around her robe, his fingers brushing against her bare stomach.
"You're sappy in the morning," Kate says, but she's smiling anyway, and he knows that she loves his morning sap.
"We're in the City of Love Kate. And when you're with the one you love, it makes you sappy."
"Well I love you too, Mr Castle," Kate replies, kissing his cheek.
Castle ghosts his lips over Kate's, hearing her breath hitch. "I love you more, Mrs Castle."
