a/n: Written for Porn Battle XIV for the prompts thunderstorm & breakfast.
She wakes to a crack of thunder, the sound of rain against the windows tugging her out of sleep as it pounds against the glass. The bedroom is dark, save for the illumination of Castle's laptop screensaver gently rising and falling on his chest, highlighting the tilt of his face as he sleeps. She shuts the computer, turning over to deposit it on the floor on her side of the bed and sees the bright green letters of the alarm clock glaring at her. 1:30.
There's a pang of hunger that wasn't there hours ago and she rolls out of bed to discover she's still in her work clothes, a glance to Castle confirming that he's still dressed as well; probably figured he'd write while she slept and then wake her to eat. The corners of her lips lift at his attempt as she shucks her wrinkled pants and dress shirt for a pair of leggings and one of Castle's sweatshirts, toes curling against the chill of the hardwood floor as she tiptoes out the door.
Some of the long day drains out of her as she makes her way into the kitchen, stopping at the window to pull back the curtain and watch the rain sluice down onto the street below. There's another crack of thunder as the tops of umbrellas hurry by, bright red and black-and-white stripes in a pair, and she allows herself to wonder for a moment about the people out in Soho at almost two in the morning. Her gaze becomes unfocused as she loses herself in the story she's spinning until a flash of lightning cuts through the sky, snapping her out of it. She shakes her head at the ridiculous Castle-like behavior, dropping the curtain just as a pair of arms encircle her waist.
"I totally got the drop on you," he whispers into her ear as she jumps. She rolls her eyes at his game - one he seemingly made up and has been playing all by himself - before spinning around to face him, nudging her way out of his embrace.
"Rough day," she supplies, padding over to the fridge and letting the cool air calm her racing heart as she stares blankly at the contents inside.
"I figured when I came in to ask you about pizza toppings and found you dead to the world." He lifts himself into a chair at the bar, rubbing a hand over sleepy eyes before dropping his cheek onto the weight of an elbow. "Wanna talk about it?"
She bites her lip as she continues to stand in front of the open refrigerator, mind racing with images of the middle aged male victim, his teary-eyed daughter and her stepmom, the harsh screaming that had echoed around the bullpen as the teenager raced out of the meeting room.
It should have been you! I wish you were dead!
The refrigerator slams shut, condiments rattling behind the stainless steel, and she curls her hands against her eyes as if the worn sleeves of Castle's sweatshirt can block out the image of the grieving widow.
"Beckett?"
"Just a case." She sounds weary even to her own ears but knows that he understands better than anyone how some things are better left at the precinct. "I want pancakes."
He laughs, surprised, comes around the island to gently cup the back of her head and press a kiss to her temple. "Pancakes coming right up."
She leans against the counter as he begins preparations, watches the broad line of his shoulders work as he cracks eggs, whisks ingredients, expertly mixes the batter; a practiced art form developed from years of comforting Alexis with breakfast food. She procures a bag of chocolate chips to distract her from thoughts of daughters, lets his hum of approval wash over her invitingly even as he launches into a stupid story about the hilarious youtube video he found earlier that day.
She grabs a handful of chocolate chips and pops them into her mouth one by one, watching appreciatively as he reaches up to put the flour away, still chattering on. His t-shirt rides up to expose a strip of skin just above his jeans, currently riding low on his hips, and her body seems to awaken as a sudden wave of desire curls low in her stomach.
"Hello?"
Her gaze jerks up to his face and she knows she's busted, can't be bothered to care when he's giving her that satisfied half-smile that she's become more accustomed to seeing between her legs than across a desk at the precinct.
"Stop that," he motions to the rest of the chocolate chips in her hand with the spatula, still smug. "You'll spoil your appetite."
She sidles up to him at the stove, not one to concede the upper hand so easily, dangling her last morsels of chocolate in front of him as one leg winds around his.
"My appetite is perfectly healthy, Castle," she singsongs slowly, watching the spatula freeze in his hands above the last few pancakes. "Wanna test yours?"
The thunder rolls as if on cue, his eyes flicking down to watch her close in on his mouth, tongue flicking out to accept the treat before sucking the pad of her finger clean. The tingling sensation his mouth is creating spreads rapidly to the rest of her body, her eyes meeting his as he finally releases her finger with a wet pop.
They both jump as the pancakes sizzle, Castle jerking his hand into motion and flipping the spatula only to find black staring up at them.
"Well so much for this batch," he chokes out, inching away from her to throw the burnt assortment in the garbage, coming back with the properly cooked plate of pancakes between them. "You need to eat."
She frowns slightly but lets herself be led to the bar, pulling the pile of pancakes closer as Castle pours them each a glass of milk and completes his cooking duties by topping off both plates with a heavy serving of syrup. The sound of the rain and clinking silverware provides a soothing soundtrack to their meal, Beckett's toes absentmindedly curling against the cotton of his socks as her mind begins to wander again in the silence.
She licks her fork clean before going in for another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Does Alexis like me?"
"Does Alexis...?" She turns to see him choke on a sip of milk, sputtering and swiveling from side to side as if he's going to see his daughter standing behind him. "Of course she likes you, where did this come from?"
"No reason," she shrugs, mumbling through another bite.
He watches her eat instead of going back to his own plate, silent even through his somewhat puzzled expression and she knows his author's mind is working; observing and pulling details from her the way he used to, the way he still does for bits of Nikki Heat (and thinks she doesn't notice). She reaches out to grab another pancake but freezes over the plate as he extends his arm to cup her chin in his palm, thumb swiping from cheek to upper lip.
"Sorry, you've got..." he swallows thickly, eyes flicking down to her mouth. "A little syrup."
She licks her lips out of instinct, the tip of her tongue brushing his thumb and her fork clatters to the countertop at the very same moment he lunges for her. He tastes like syrup and chocolate and she moans into his mouth, all of her carefully contained intensity from the day now boiling through her veins as she wraps her legs around his waist. The rough fabric of his jeans creates a dizzying kind of friction as he lifts her, a frustrated noise bubbling up from his throat when he can't find room atop the bar.
She's gasping for breath when he deposits her on the chair again, the low boom of thunder outside rolling through her as he grabs for the hem of his sweatshirt. His fingers sweep underneath to dance into the waistband of her leggings, whirling around the skin of her abdomen and leaving goosebumps in their wake. She stills him when he starts to make his way down to the floor; she's ready to burst into flames, needs more than his light and teasing touch and he looks up at her from his almost-kneeling position, fingers hooked into her waistband, hair mussed from sleep and her own fingers.
"Castle," is the only thing she manages to choke out before she bites her lip and he's up again, tearing her leggings down as he scales the length of her body.
The hard edge of the granite countertop bites into her back as he pushes her against it and she arches into him, helping him push his jeans past his hips and wrapping her legs around him again. It's fast and hard and she meets him stroke for stroke, thunder punctuating their sharp cries and the anticipation of lightning building with her own need for release. She tenses around him before she shatters, everything leaving her body in a ragged exhale as he finishes and drapes himself over her, head resting on the counter by the plate of forgotten pancakes.
"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon," he breathes into the side of her face and she feels pinpricks behind her eyes, overwhelmed by this stupidly intuitive man. He doesn't push further and she squeezes her arms around his neck in wordless thanks, lets the angles of their bodies meld together as he picks her up and carries her back towards their bedroom.
She falls asleep thinking about the morning, wondering if coffee with a side of her smile is an acceptable thank you for pancakes and last night.