Everything
a/n: A story really about nothing at all. :)
The breeze whispers across her skin, the tang of salt and sea on her lips as she gasps, her back arched and her fingers curled into the tangle of sheets surrounding her.
They shut off the air conditioning for the night and opened every window; the fans are whirling, suffusing the house with the unmistakable tang of the ocean. Goosebumps flare across her exposed skin that he chases with his mouth. He's patient in his perusal of her, his lips soft against the arc of her ribs, the peak of her hipbone and the slope of her abdomen, determined to cherish every inch of her skin with the tip of his tongue and the just-so nip of his teeth. She's hazy, her limbs seemingly weightless as her body slowly climbs, rises like the sun that is barely cresting at the horizon while he worships between her thighs.
The early morning sunlight flares golden behind her closed eyelids as she peaks with pleasure, sensations washing through her like waves against the shore, crashing and receding, over and over again, lazy and rhythmic and wholly consuming. He crawls up and rolls onto his back, tugging her with him while the last jolts still shimmy through her, folding her shivering body against the warmth of his. She sinks against his chest, heavy and spent, mewling contentedly, and he brushes his lips across hers, sipping at the sound, his kiss tender and adoring.
"Sleep, Kate," he hums against her lips and she wants to protest, wants to share the pleasure with him but his fingers traverse up and down the length of her spine, a soft and lulling rhythm that leaves her drowsy, fatigue tugging at her, dragging her under.
"Love you," she mumbles as sleep claims her once more.
Next time she wakes, the sun stands high against a stark-blue sky, and Kate blinks against the white glare, arches her back and stretches her arms and legs out across the sinfully comfortable mattress. She feels lazy and content, considers for a moment to curl back up and snooze a while longer, but the large space is too empty beside her so she swings her legs off the bed instead. The hardwood is pleasantly cool beneath her naked feet and she rises, stretches once more against the sunlight, then slides on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties.
She finds him in the kitchen, his back to her as he moves around, frying potatoes and eggs by the smell of it, his boxers slung delectably low over his hips. He must notice she's there even before she says one word because he turns his head toward her, greets her with that content, delighted morning smile that makes her flush with warmth.
"Hi babe," she says, her voice still gravely with sleep as she pads across the cool tiles toward him. She slides her arms around him from behind, presses her body against his naked back, her cheek resting over his spine.
"Good morning." She feels the vibration of his voice through his skin, feels his back muscles move while he flips the potatoes in the skillet. "You slept late".
"Hmm yeah," she hums, her lips brushing his skin, kissing across his shoulder blades. "You wore me out." Her fingers curl over his abs, softly scratching his skin in that way she knows makes his knees buckle. "Thank you."
His muscles ripple as he half-laughs, half-moans at her ministrations, and then he pushes the skillets off the burners, flips off the stove.
Castle turns in her embrace, twines his arms around her, one hand gripped to her waist and the other curved around her butt cheek, dragging her against him. "Oh, it's been my pleasure..." He grins, waggles his eyebrows playfully and she can't help but laugh, wraps her arms around his neck and stretches up to draw herself closer.
"Hm hmm," she hums, arches one eyebrow playfully, "I bet." She feels his answering laugh roll through his stomach, watches the happiness crinkle his eyes and spread his lips and she chases that smile with her mouth, wants to taste it, savor it.
"Want some coffee?" He brushes the words against the corner of her mouth like a string of pearled kisses.
"Yeah," she smiles up at him, her fingers sneaking beneath the waistband of his boxers, cupping the taut curve of his rear. "Coffee would be nice."
And then she curls her tongue against his, savoring the coffee flavor of his mouth as she deepens her kiss and he moans, pushes her back against the counter, his fingers sliding beneath her shirt.
Later, they reheat their breakfast in the microwave, eat hardened scrambled eggs and limp fried potatoes while they grin at each other across the table and she thinks no food has ever tasted better.
The water is cold as it nips at her toes, prickles her skin like icy needles when the shore brushes over her feet but she ventures in anyway, savors the chill that races through her blood, the spread of goosebumps crawling up her calves. She stretches her arms out wide; her face raised into the sunlight she inhales deeply, letting the crisp salty air infuse her lungs.
A wave crashes, spewing cold and sloshing the grit of sand and salt against her skin; she almost loses her balance but she stands strong, laughing with the joy of it. After the seemingly interminably long winter, the sun is warming her skin and she feels exultant with it, alive, reborn.
"You're so beautiful."
She turns to find him watching her from the shoreline, his words carried to her on the swirling spring breeze that tousles his hair, making him look younger, roguish. He's squinting, the stark blue of his eyes rivaling the azure sky, and the awe in his smile makes her heart pound. Her husband, handsome and strong and warm; the joy in her heart.
She tilts her head at him, hand outstretched and fingers wiggling to call him closer. "Come on in."
"But it's cold," he pouts impishly, and it occurs to her that one day she'll have a little one who will look at her just like that. Her insides flare with warmth; a rush of quiet, dreamlike euphoria.
He comes for her anyway, his thick fingers curling around hers as he dips his toes into the water then quickly lifts them back out, like a cat high-stepping through the first snow. She laughs at him, bumps her hip against his; another wave crashes with force, frigid water sloshing up to their thighs. The sand shifts under their feet as the tide tries to drag them under and she squeals with laughter, clinging to his arm while they struggle to stay upright. Rick wraps his arms around her, his broad hands coming to rest over her belly as he plants his feet right and left of hers, and she leans back against the breadth of his chest, sinks her head to his shoulder.
It might still be too cold to swim; she's tempted to try but for now she's content. She raises her face into the sun, lets her eyes slide closed as she savors the familiar warmth of his skin against hers, entrusts herself into the strength of his embrace.
She tiptoes into the living room, her feet soundless on the thick, soft carpet as she circles the furniture, finds him just where he said he'd be, sprawled out on the couch.
He's slumped into the cushions, one arm dangling off the sofa and his feet hanging over the armrest in what surely cannot be a comfortable position but he doesn't seem to mind because he's quietly snoring into the fabric. She sinks to her knees before him, swipes an unruly strand of hair off his forehead that feels sticky between her fingertips, crusty from the salty ocean air but he doesn't notice her presence, the rhythm of his breathing undisturbed.
Kate watches him sleep for long moments, the dark fan of his lashes and his pupils moving beneath the thin skin of his eyelids, thinks he must be dreaming when one side of his mouth twitches with a lopsided smile. She wonders what he's dreaming about, hopes he might tell her the story later.
Her knees protest from the crouched position so she rises, walks over to the extensive bookshelves that were built into the wall, contemplating the long line of spines before her. She lets her index finger slide over the varying textures and engraved lettering, savors the unique scent of old books, the quiet wonder of the stories contained therein. In the end she decides on one of her favorites, 'Anna Karenina', one that she's read so often that she can jump in and out at any page, always knowing where she is, a familiar and cherished companion.
Book clutched to her chest she makes her way back to the couch, carefully squeezes herself into the corner between his head and the arm rest - the only space not taken up by the length of his form.
He rouses just long enough to notice her presence, snuffles drowsily as he drags himself over, settles his head into her lap, his face buried into her abdomen, murmuring a few incoherent words. The warmth of his breath seeps through the fabric of her sweater, making her belly quiver and she wonders if this is what it'll feel like, soon, those little flutters of movement.
Her book open at random on the armrest, she lets her mind trip lazily across the familiar words while she curls her fingers into his hair, caressing his scalp in lazy circles, feels him sinking back into content sleep.
Starburst of color explode against the blackened sky, sparking, flittering light, peonies of vivid pinks and greens and purples, tails of bright red sparks that unfold like chrysanthemum, sparkling silver stars that reach into the smudged darkness like a willow's branches.
The sand is cool now, a chill seeping up through the blanket that they've spread out across the beach and Kate shivers, burrows further into his chest. Castle draws the second blanket around her, tugs her in tight, his bent legs framing hers and his arms banded around her torso. Her head nudged into the curve of his neck and their faces cheek-to-cheek, she gazes up at the illuminated sky, her thoughts briefly wandering back to another Memorial Day weekend so many years ago, the pain of that missed opportunity distant now, dulled by years of joy that have followed, words that have been spoken and mistakes that'd been fixed. Would they have made it, Kate wonders, if they'd found their way to each sooner? Or would they have crashed and burned?
She likes to believe that they'd still be here, like this, that they were meant to be. She had never believed in destiny and magic quite like he does until he came into her life but now, now-
She's living it, every day.
The charm of their life together, its adventures and passion and joys, and the quiet contentment it brings. She's so thankful that he stuck around, back when she was prickly and walled up, couldn't yet see that it was him she needed in her life.
She turns in his embrace as the last of the fireworks fade into the night sky, curls an arm around his neck to draw him closer.
"You make me so happy," she professes, and it's not new to him - she no longer squirrels away her words, these days - but he still soaks in each piece of her story, guards them close to his heart. She watches the emotions play across his face, the mix of delight and awe with a hint of pride, the strength of his love for her that always shines in his eyes and she chases his smile with her lips, kisses him sweetly as the evening enfolds them into its embrace.
Magic is days like today, a lifetime of small moments strung together like pearls on a string, some uneven and some imperfect but each iridescent with its own beauty, altogether not unbreakable yet strong under pressure, something treasured, something loved.
It's everything.